


Mumbling Nightmares

by Starfire072302



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Anthony Lockwood - Freeform, F/M, Locklyle, Lockwood & Co - Freeform, Lucy Carlyle - Freeform, Mumbling Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5754256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starfire072302/pseuds/Starfire072302
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have been quiet since the Bickerstaff case, and Lucy, Lockwood and George have been looking for some action. This comes soon enough, and soon the team is tackling the sinister spirit of a woman who has been terrorizing a family. The Visitor turns out to be stronger than the trio of ghost hunters thought. Who is this new visitor? And what does she want? takes place after TWS!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is going to be some horror schtuff right here! So I hope you guys like it! This takes place just before the Hollow Boy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Lockwood & Co.

It was nearly midnight. Lockwood, George and I stood in a small circle, our backs together, and rapiers at the ready.

"Temperature has dropped below 15..." George muttered, popping a stick of gum into his mouth.

"Any noise, Lucy?" Lockwood inquired.

I shook my head, and focused harder. "No, not yet. I'm picking up some faint whispers, though."

"Ok. I can see a death glow now. Its over near below rafters. It's quite faint, small, and harder to see, but it's still there."

An apparition was beginning to appear. It was of a small boy, no older than six, with wispy blonde hair and sky blue eyes. His small body glowed faintly with other-light. The whispers from before intensified. I herd a faint, childlike voice arise from the other whispers.

"Please, daddy, no."

"I'm getting something." I said quietly. Lockwood turned his head, eyes fixing on the small apparition.

"Daddy, NO!"

"He's just saying no. He's talking to his father."

"Anything else?" George asked, and I held up a hand to silence him.

"Daddy no!"

"Still saying the same thing. Let me listen."

Lockwood nodded, and his grip tightened on his rapier.

"I won't let you, daddy."

The boy rushed forward towards us, his arms outstretched. He hit the iron chains with a burst of ectoplasm, and rushed back to his original spot.

"He said; 'I won't let you, daddy."

"Try reassuring him," Lockwood suggested, "It helped a bit with the Miss Sellers case."

I nodded, and turned my gaze fully to the boy. The ghost-fog was now thick, swirling around the recesses of the iron chains.

"We'll help you. We'll stop your daddy."

"Mummy, wake up!"

"We'll help your mummy too," I stated, as calm as possible. It's never good to have negative feelings during a visitation. I tightened my grip on my rapier, and focused harder.

"Mummy is gone."

I nudged my backpack with my foot. Inside the bag was a silver glass jar. Inside the jar was an old skull, which a type three was tied to.

"The source." I hissed to the ghost in the jar. "Any ideas?"

"I think so. At least I think. It's something having to do with the boy's mother."

"But where is it?"

"How should I know? I'm just a ghost in a jar. If you let me out, I could go to it, and bring it to you-"

"No way."

"Fine, fine. Look in the armoire."

I nodded, and turned my gaze on a great wooden armoire. I stepped out out of iron chains, and to the armoire.

"Lucy!" Lockwood called.

"Are you mad?!" George cried suddenly.

"I'm onto something!" I cried, prying open the doors. It was empty. I sighed, getting ready to walk back to the circle of chains, until the skull spoke again.

"Go back. Look again."

I froze, and turned, examining the floor of the armoire. Near where it met the back wall, there was a solid wedge of darkness. I slipped my fingers into the crack, and with a great heave, I fell back, the wood gripped in my hands. I looked back at the compartment I had just opened. Inside was what I immediately recognized as a hat pin. It appeared to be made of gold. I could sense something behind me. I looked over my shoulder.  
The boy's ghost was no more than three feet from me. I ripped a canister of iron filings free from my belt, and threw it at him. It burst, and he shrieked, disappearing.  
Lockwood stepped forward, kneeling beside me.

"A hat pin?" he asked. I nodded, and picked it up gently. It was cold. burning cold, even through my gloves. I quickly dropped it in a silver chain link pouch, and the psychic buildup disappeared. Lockwood gave me a gigawatt smile.

"Great job, Luce.

When we got back to Portland Row, George began to explain what he hadn't gotten a chance to tell us about the visitor we had just faced.

"So, the boy's name was Ezra lyle?"

George nodded. "His father murdered his mother, and then murdered him when he interfered."

"That's terrible." I said.

George nodded.

"Well, he can rest in peace now, thanks to us."

I smiled, and sipped my tea. Just then, there was a knock at the door.

Lockwood rose, and went to answer the door.

"My name is Cordelia Cartwright, and I'm here because I've been seeing something in my home..."

Lockwood nodded, and waved the woman on.

She was thin, with a thin face to match. She had wide grey eyes, and dark blond hair that was pulled half back, held there by a pink pin. She was wearing a grey button down cardigan on her thin shoulders, and a plain pale pink dress that reached her knees. Upon her feet were a pair of magenta pumps. She was young, maybe early 20's, and quite pretty.

"Can you describe it?" Lockwood asked, flashing her a megawatt smile.

"It was... It seems to be a woman... or a girl. She has been terrifying my servants... and my husband and daughter."

"Can you describe the shape?" I asked.

"Defiantly female." Mrs. Cartwright remarked, picking up a doughnut from the plate, and taking a small bite. "In a dress, according to my daughter, who can see her better than I can sense her presence."

I nodded, and George jotted down something in his notes, then helping himself to a doughnut.

"Have you hired anyone else to examine this case?" Lockwood asked, resting his chin on his hand, seemingly uninterested.

Mrs. Cartwright nodded. "I hired some Grimble agents to look into it. Two girls. Young, they were. One got ghost touched. Thankfully, she was alright, but it was almost too late. The other one... claimed that there was nothing. The one who got ghost touched had to have therapy from what she had witnessed. She claimed the ghost lock was so strong that she nearly threw herself from the top of the stairs."

This got Lockwood's attention. He immediately sat strait up, his eyes glinting. "Are there any other accounts, Mrs. Cartwright?"

Again, she nodded, eyes fixing on her lap. "My servant claims that he has seen her roaming the hallways at night. Thin, he says she is, and pale. She wears some kind of dress."

"Has she ever attacked anyone?" I asked, leaning forward slightly in my seat.

Again, she nodded, her thin face paling. "That's the reason I have seeked help again."

"How soon do you want us to take the case?" Lockwood asked.

She looked up at him, hope glimmering in her eyes. "As soon as you can, Mr. Lockwood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Lockwood & Co.

That next night, we were in a cab, duffle bags packed, and headed towards the wealthy part of the city.

"So do you think this case is worthwhile?" I asked Lockwood.

Lockwood smiled. "I sure hope so."

I looked at George. He looked like he had forgotten something.

"George?" Lockwood started, "What's wrong?"

George snapped out of his trance. "Nothing. Just thinking."

Lockwood was about to say something, but we had arrived.

"Ah!" He said instead. "We're here."

We emerged from the cab, bags on our backs, and duffle bags in our hands. Our rapiers glittered on our belt in the dying sunlight. The house was big. No, scratch that. Big was an understatement. it was huge. It was a sprawling marble building, with grecian pillars holding up the great carved awning. Windows dotted the walls like eyes, rich red curtains as their eyelids drawn to cover their dark recesses. Rose bushes bloomed, coiling around the house, and vines snaked up it's walls like green fingers.  
We followed Lockwood up the the front door. He grabbed the knocker, and knocked three times. The door swung open, and Mrs. Cartwright and what I assumed was Mr. Cartwright stood in the doorway. The man beside her was a whole head taller than his wife, with dark drown hair, and mirky green eyes. He had a great, squared jawline, and broad shoulders. He was clad in a white dress shirt, a brown tweed jacket, and dark brown dress pants and black dress shoes.

"Hello, I'm Anthony Lockwood of Lockwood & Co. Pleased to be here. These are my associates, Lucy Carlyle, and George Cubbins." Lockwood stuck out a gloved hand to shake, his gigawatt smile gleaming on his face.

Mr. Cartwright gave him what I assumed to be a smile, but looked more like a grimace. He took Lockwood's hand, shaking it firmly.

I stuck out my hand as well, and Mr. Cartwright shook it, and then shook George's pudgy one.

"Thomas Cartwright. Charmed." He said, giving the grimace again.

A small girl ran to stand Between the Cartwrights, hiding behind Mrs. Carwright's skirts. I assumed her to be the daughter Mrs. Cartwright spoke of the day before. She was blonde, like her mother, with the same eyes, wide, but instead of grey, they were mirky green, like her father's. Her hair was in two low pigtails, and she was wearing a light purple dress and grey leggings, along with some simple black flats.

"This is my daughter, Lily." Mrs. Cartwright stated, and hoisted the small girl into her arms.

"Come in, come in." She laughed, "You don't need to stand out there all night."

She was right. It's never good to hesitate at a threshold.

Soon enough, the Cartwrights headed out to a hotel, and left us alone with the great house. They then stated that we were free to make tea and have some biscuits if we so pleased.  
The interior was just as grand. It had a large sprawling marble staircase with a red rug running up the middle. Two sets of great mahogany grand doors were on either side of the staircase, and another was on the other side of the room, along with another on the opposite side. In the middle of the floor was an intricate purple rug. Above us, the ceiling shone with a crystal chandelier. I looked at my watch, observing that the time was just about 8:00.  
Lockwood soon enough found the kitchen, and put the kettle on.

"Alright." Lockwood said, sitting down in a chair opposite of me. "Here's the plan. I'll take the living room. George, you take the library. Lucy, you take the upper corridor, near the bedrooms. We will call for one another if we so need to. We all have the new walkie-talkies, right?"

George and I nodded in unison.

"Good. Then we're set."

The kettle whistled, and Lockwood found some teacups, and I found a package of cookies. After consuming to our fill, we filled our canteens with tea, and set off to our destinations.

And the horror of the night began.

When I arrived at my designated area, I lay my iron chains in a circle, and set down my backpack. I pulled the skull jar from the interior, and set in beside my feet. The plasm swirled inside like cream would in tea. The face was present, bulbous nose and bulging eyes as unpleasant as ever.  
"Have you sensed anything yet?"

The face spun in a circle, almost like a top, and mock yawned.  
"No. Have you? Maybe if you let me out, I could sense things better."  
"Keep dreaming." I snarled.  
"Oh, alright."  
I detect some Creeping fear, some Malaise, and Miasma, but nothing too serious." I paused, and glanced at my thermometer. "The temperature is dropping rather fast, though."  
"Hmmm... wonder what it could be."  
"I'm not letting you out."  
"Drat."  
I stood there for a good while, nothing happening. The temperature continued to drop until it finally stopped just below 25 degrees. It was around twelve thirty the Malaise was beginning to stronger. I pulled on my gloves, zipped my parka, and drew my rapier.

"Pitter, patter, pitter patter."

I bolted into a strait-backed position, grip tightening on the hilt of my rapier. I narrowed my eyes, searching the darkness for the source of the noise. The footsteps sounded like someone walking barefoot on tiles. I focused in with my inner ear, and listened. I heard... faint weeping. And then a scream. It was so loud it caused me to flinch. The air grew thick, and heavy, growing even colder. I looked around, and noticed my breath was hanging in the air in puffs.

"Bang...!"

"Bang...!"

"Bang...!"

"Bang...!"

A noise sounded throughout the corridor, seemingly getting closer. A door behind me, which was ajar before, blew closed with the same bang! A sound that resembled breathing seemed to puff just beside my ear.

I pulled the collar of my coat up to cover my ears. The weeping got louder. I suddenly heard heavy footsteps, panting, and then a cold breeze passed me. I zeroed in on the source of the cold air. All I caught was a black form as it rounded the corner. The Malaise increased, and I tightened my free gloved hand on a canister of iron filings. The temperature had dropped to twenty degrees, and I pulled my hat onto my head. I listened again, and heard nothing. But...

Then I did. Something was crawling. Something unseen. I could hear it's fingernails scraping against the floorboards, raspy breaths arising from it, mixed with broken sobs. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, my own breaths raspy. As whatever-it-was passed, I could't see any type of form. But there was something equally as terrifying.

Wherever the thing was was leaving behind a trail of blood. It appeared in pools, the sobs increasing. It felt as if somebody ran a freezing finger down my spine. I straightened myself, and took a shaky sip of my tea, which felt good in my parched mouth. The heavy footsteps were back, tromping toward the source of the blood trail. The blood trail sped up, and the source of the crying turning into desperate shrieks.

"NO! NO NO!"

The footsteps and the shrieking disappeared into a room, and with a final shriek, the noises were gone. I stood in the darkness, eyes wide. I looked forward, and was about to call Lockwood on my walkie-talkie when I saw something.

It was the form of a young woman. She was thin, and pale. Her body was wispy, her legs solid until they reached her feet, which became semi transparent as they touched the ground. The same applied to her hands. The arms were solid, but began to fade, leaving her hands semitransparent. Her sandy blond hair hung down to her elbows, blowing in an unseen breeze. Her bangs were held away from her shaded face by a white ribbon. A lock of hair had fallen in her face from the bounds of the ribbon. She was wearing a grey sheath dress, with a high neckline that was just above her collar bones. The sleeves were loose, and hung just above the crooks of her elbows. The skirt of the dress hung just above her ankles, also billowing in the unseen breeze. The dress was plain, save for the thin black ribbon that was tied around the waist. Her feet were bare. Dripping from the unseen, shaded face were tears.

For the first time, I spoke. "I-I can help you."

The weeping stopped abruptly, but the tears stayed.

"I thought you loved me."

I stiffened at this, not expecting that kind of response.

"How could you..."

I opened my mouth to speak.

"HOW COULD YOU!"

The woman looked up, the shade covering her face dissolving. Her eyes were like black marbles, shiny, without pupils. The tears streaking her cheeks had turned red.

I ripped the canister I had been gripping free, and was about to throw it at her when she lunged forward.

Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there. Told you I'd update. Was that creepy enough? Sorry for the cruel cliffhanger. I will update soon. Locklyle fluff is coming soon, so don't worry. Hope you enjoyed! If you did, I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> Stay tuned!
> 
> ~Starry


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Lockwood & Co.

"Lucy!"

My head was pounding.

"Lucy!"

My whole body hurt.

"Luce, please!"

I stirred, and opened my eyes. I was laying in the center of the iron chains I had set up, in Lockwood's arms. His brow was furrowed with worry. George stood next to the skull jar. It was still dark, and Lockwood's torch was laying on the ground, it's beam shining towards the wall. Lockwood sighed with relief when he saw my eyes were open. I squirmed slightly, and he let me go, helping me sit upright.

"What... happened?" I asked, placing a hand on my pounding head.

"We heard you shriek..." Lockwood said. "Are you ok?"

I nodded, but I didn't remember shrieking. I brushed it off, and took a deep breath.

"What did you see?" George asked.

I explained. I explained everything from the crying, to the blood trail, to the appearance of the ghost girl. I was out of breath when I was done.

Lockwood pulled his canteen of tea from his belt, and unscrewed the lid. He put it to my lips. "Here. Drink this. It will help you feel better."

And I did. The warm tea felt good, warming my body.

"I have my own, you know." I said, cheeks flushed.

"I know..."

I decided pressing was bad, and stood up.

"I'll stay with Lucy, just in case anything happens." Lockwood stated, and stood up beside me. George nodded, and began to descend down the staircase.

"Right, but don't snog or anything." George said, a great huff of laughter following.

I flushed pink, and Lockwood rolled his eyes and smiled. He knelt down, and switched off his torch, replacing it in his belt. I grabbed my rapier where it had fallen, and righted myself.

"I saw a vanishing point."

Lockwood turned to me, dark eyes glittering. "Where?"

I pointed to the door the screaming had ceased in. Just then, I thought to look for the blood trail. It was still there, alright. Gleaming red in the light of the moon coming in through a nearby window.

"Lockwood." I nudged him, and gestured with my rapier towards the trail. He knelt down, and poked it with the tip of his rapier. It sizzled and spat. Lockwood stood, pulling his rapier away.

"It's plasm, Luce. Just like the Red Room."

"Oh. Alright. Shall we go to the room?"

Lockwood nodded, and began to walk towards the door. It was closed. That was odd. Last time I saw it, it was open.

"Ladies first." Lockwood shot me a glimmering smile.

"No way. I opened the door in that old castle." I retorted.

"Ah, but after that, I opened the door in that prison case."

He was right. I sighed, and opened the door. As soon as I did, the two of us were his with a sudden chill. The room inside was empty. If you count the pool of blood in the floor as empty.  
Behind the sofa that sat in the middle of the room, something glowed. It was faint, but still there, blinking like a firefly. Lockwood and I crept around the sofa, tip-toeing our way there. I could hear the weeping again. Sitting against the back of the couch was the woman. She was curled into a tight ball, and when we walked the entire way around, she looked up so suddenly that it made me flinch. She stood up, and gazed at us with shiny black eyes. The ever-present tears that ran down her cheeks were still there. Lockwood looked past her, and squinted.

"The death glow in here is really bright."

She lunged, arms outstretched like she wanted to embrace me.  
Except, it wasn't an embrace I wanted to happen. Lockwood and I dove down out of her way, and scrambled out the door- or tried to. She was behind us before we could take many steps.

"Get to the chains!" Lockwood roared. I nodded, then turned, and threw a canister of iron filings at the woman's form. The iron met the plasm with a hiss and she retreated back, ghostly arms guarding her face.

I took this as a chance to run after Lockwood. We ran to the door, and through it as fast as we could. The ghost had regained her strength, and was racing after us again. I dove into the circle of iron chains, and Lockwood as well. The ghost slammed up against the barrier of the chains, plasm spurting, and retreated back with a wail.

Lockwood had landed on top of me. His hands were on either side of my head, mine beside my ears. My cheeks flushed as Lockwood climbed off of me, and I could have sworn I saw his cheeks flush as well.

"Sorry." He panted. I stood up, and looked at the room we had just run from. The door was closed again.

"It's alright." I breathed, "It was an accident."

I glanced at my watch. It was almost 6 a.m. I sighed, and sat back down.

"Lockwood..."

"Yeah?"

"I think we're dealing with a murder victim."

He guffawed. "Yeah. We should have gone to the archives before doing this. I was so stupid."

"Lockwood, nobody was stupid. We had suspicions it was a type two, but it was more likely to be a type one. According to George, at least. He thought it would be just a Grey Maiden. We had no idea it would be a Spector."

"I guess you're right, Luce, but still, we could have been better prepared."

I looked down at the hem of my skirt.

The creeping fear was back. I looked up, and sure enough, the woman was back. She stood just beyond the iron chain, just a few feet back.

"What is it that you want?" I said sternly.

"Lucy, I don't think..."

I held up a hand to silence him. The woman looked down at me, and once again, the tears began to flow down her porcelain face.

"How could you..."

I stood to face her fully. The woman reached forward to touch me, but hissed when her slim, transparent fingers made contact with the barrier set by the circle of chains.

Her tears turned to blood again, the unseen breeze that affected only her increased.

"HOW COULD YOU!"

"It will all be ok." I said, firm and clear.

"BETRAYAL!"

The ghostly form attempted to attack me, but instead slammed several times against the barrier.

"I LOVED YOU!"

"Lucy! get down!"

But I didn't listen. Tendrils of Other-light coiled from her form, and the ghost sunk to the floor, and began to sob.

"Lucy, back away from the chains."

"Lockwood, she's not going to-"

The woman stood up abruptly, and rushed forward. She was inches away from me, her eyes level with mine.

"Liar."

She was about to try to attack me again, but her figure began to fade. I looked to the window.

Light was streaming in through the crack of the blinds.

She was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, wow! That was hard to write! I tried to make it scary, and I'm not sure if it was, but if you guys liked it, make sure to let me know! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this so far! Stay tuned!
> 
> ~Starry


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Lockwood & Co.

"We need to go to the archives."

These were Lockwood's first words when we left the dreaded house.

"My thoughts exactly." George said, "But first, we have to go home and clean up.

I nodded in agreement. We were all a bit shaken up, save for George, who had only witnessed creeping fear and miasma. We explained to him what happened, and he agreed that going to the archives was a must. George just loves it there.

xXx

We arrived at 35 Portland Row, and all three of us dropped our bags the second we got inside. I ran upstairs, and entered the bathroom. I disrobed, and after turning the water on as hot as I could stand, I stepped into the shower.

After showering, I walked up to my room (wrapped in a towel), and changed into a fresh sweater, leggings, skirt, and socks. I brushed my hair, and began to walk downstairs. The bathroom door opened, and Lockwood stepped out. His hair was damp, and he had a towel around his waist. His chest was toned lightly, with scars lightly marking a couple of areas. My cheeks reddened, and I quickly ran downstairs. I could hear Lockwood's laugh reverberating down the stairs as I ran to the kitchen.  
George turned around as I entered the room.

"What happened to you? You look like you've seen a raw bones."

I glared at him, and sat down at the table. I began to draw the girl from the night before on the Thinking Cloth, slowly drawing her facial features.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." I said bluntly. George opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Lockwood entering the kitchen. I payed no heed, and waited for him to take his seat. He smiled at both of us.  
George set down a plait of cheese and crackers, and a few minutes later, the kettle whistled. We sat in silence for a few minutes, eating and drinking tea.

"So," George said after a long, awkward silence. "The archives. After we finish here, we'll go there, and see what we can find."

Lockwood piped in, megawatt grin painted on his face. "Lucy said she heard something. This could help with finding something."

I set down my teacup; folded my hands in my lap. I nodded, and began. "She mainly said things like 'how could you' and, 'I loved you', and she even said 'betrayal.' once. Just after the sun came up, as she was disappearing, she called me a liar."

George used a pudgy finger to push his slipping glasses into place. "This would suggest a jealous lover. But that also may not be the case. We'll never know until we actually try." Lockwood nodded in agreement, and rose from his chair.

"Well, we'll never actually know until we look. So off we go!"

We caught a cab to the archives, the night's events were finally weighing down on my body, tiring me out. The shock of the cold late november air kept me alert, but only just. The archives were as big, dusty, and old book-smelling as ever. The somber grey shades of Fittes, the mustard colour coats of Grimble, and the rich maroons or Rotwell mixed together in a throng of hues and glimmering rapiers. We began our search small. George immediately went to search the Cartwright name, and I went to search the house history. Lockwood went to search deaths in the area.

I arrived at the house records after a quick exchange of words with a librarian, and began my search.

There was a shelf full of tenants who had previously owned the house. I knelt down, coughing lightly from the cloud of dust that arose from the contents, telling me that these records hadn't been touched for a long time-and that the Cartwrights had lived there for quite a long time. I started with the first tenants.

The record was a manila folder, with dust lining the age crackled papers. I opened the folder, which crackled, and sent another thick cloud of dust flying into my face. I coughed, and blew away the remaining dust on the inside of the folder. I began to read.

"The Johansons lived in 27 Burkes Road since 1835, and was built by Sir Arthur Johanson in the year 1872. He and his family lived there until 1879, and then sold the house.

His family consisted of his wife, Mary, and his two daughters Alison and Eliza. Sir Johanson died in 1895."

I placed the folder back in it's slot carefully, as not to disturb any more dust, and pulled out the next one.

"The Abrahams were sold the house at 27 Burkes Road in 1898, and the house was owned by William Abraham and his wife Maude until 1901. He sold the house for reasons of a job transfer."

The next folder was a bit more interesting.

"The Anthonysons were sold 27 Burkes road in 1901, bought by Colonel Richard Anthonyson and his wife Laura until 1924. In 1922, Colonel Anthonyson's son, Benjamin married Elizabeth Allen. She lived in the house with the Anthonysons until 1923 when she died at age 23. Elizabeth Allen died of unknown causes."

The picture below showed a faded black and white photo of woman with long hair, tied back with a ribbon. Her hair was done back in a bun. She was wearing a dress that reached her ankles, with a high neckline, and beaded top. Tiny black pumps were upon her feet. An embroidered shawl was held loosely around her shoulders by an intricate pin. As well as all of this, she was wearing a pair of gloves that reached her elbows. A tall, thin man stood beside her, wearing a 20's era suit. Unlike her, he was grinning. He had dark hair, and a single lock curled down onto his brow. His arm was loosely around the woman's waist.

It was her. There was no mistaking it. Minus the pupil-less eyes, the facial features were the same. The curve of the nose, the curve of the eyebrows, and the thin, unsmiling lips. She was dressed differently than her apparition, but there was defiantly no mistaking it. Written in tiny text below the faded photo read:

"Elizabeth and Benjamin Anthonyson, honeymoon, 1922"

I gripped the folder tightly, shoving the article into it, and walked away to find Lockwood and George.

"So, Elizabeth Allen died of 'unknown causes?" Lockwood asked, resting his chin in his hand. His dark eyes glittered with curiosity.

George removed his glasses; wiping them on his sweater. "Sound's fishy to me." He said, replacing his glasses on his pudgy face. I picked up the article again, and examined the picture. Even in the picture, all I could see was love and admiration in Benjamin Anthonyson's eyes as he looked at his bride. I sighed, and set it down, leaning forward and resting my head on the heel of my hand.

"Lockwood, George, did you guys find anything?"

George shook his head, and adjusted his glasses again. I turned my gaze to Lockwood.

"I did, actually." Lockwood said proudly, producing a manila folder much like the one I had found. "27 Burkes Road" wasemblazoned across the front.

He opened the folder. It was considerably newer than the one I had found, and the article inside was cleaner, and free of dust. It was either Lockwood had cleaned it, or it had been updated recently. He reached deep into the recesses, and after flipping around a bit, pulled out a couple sheets of paper.

"Just as you said, Lucy. The Anthonysons. There was a death in the house, just as your article said, and it says the same thing here. Except, it doesn't say 'unknown causes.'" Lockwood's eyes were gleaming. "It said she was found."

"Found dead?" I asked, suddenly sitting up strait. George had taken the article from Lockwood, and had begun to read the text. Lockwood passed me a piece of paper as well. It was an obituary.

I blinked a couple of times before beginning to read.

"23 year old Elizabeth Allen Anthonyson was found dead in the upstairs parlor of the home she shared with her husband and his family at 27 Burkes Road on the 14 of April, 1923. Her abdomen had been cut open. When police questioned the family, they claimed they had no idea what had happened to Elizabeth. Her ceremony was a grand one, according to papers, and her husband Benjamin was seen somber when her body was lowered into the ground."

I furrowed my brow, partly in pity, and partly in confusion. I had so many questions. I looked up at Lockwood, who was staring off into space. I handed him back the obituary. He glanced down at it, and then looked back at me.

"Pretty cheerful stuff, huh?"

I smiled lightly, and George handed me the other article. It pretty much said the same thing that the obituary had. Except that one thing caught my eye.

"During the interview, Colonel Anthonyson showed little to no signs of sadness."

I pointed the sentence out to Lockwood, who nodded. "I saw that too. I wonder if he was the one who did the murder."

"But her ghost said 'I loved you.'"

Lockwood scratched his head, dark eyes glimmering as he looked at me. "Yes, that is perplexing." He sat back in his seat, placing his slender hands behind his head.

All of a sudden, I caught myself holding back a yawn. We had been up all night. And it was now around noon. Lockwood noticed this, and we packed up, George copying our finds for further reference.

I was warmly welcomed by my bed when we returned at 35 Portland row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I wasn't as satisfied with this chapter as I was with the others...But oh well. Hopefully the characters aren't too OOC. Well, anyway, leave a review if you liked the chapter, and stay tuned!
> 
> ~Starry


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Lockwood & Co.

When I woke up, it was night time, and it was cold. I sat up in my bed to see snow drifting down from the heavens like falling leaves. I curled tight in my blanket, attempting to warm myself from the chill seeping in through the crack of my window. I rubbed my eyes, and believing that I wouldn't be able to sleep again, I switched on the light.

I pulled a beat-up paperback from my nightstand, and began to read... or I tried to. I'm afraid the book wasn't very interesting.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

The skull's voice pulled me from the story, and I looked over at it. The phantom face was there, alright. It was vibrantly glowing green in the dim lamplight. It's bulbous nose and bulbous eyes seemed more grotesque in this lighting. The grimy skull's eye sockets looked as if they could go on forever, like great chasms, the teeth like they formed a malicious grin.

I set the book face down, and crawled back into the warmth of my bed.

"No. Nothing really."

"Oh, come on. There must be something."

I shook my head, and then paused. Maybe there was something.

"What did you feel... or what did you sense with Elizabeth's spirit?"

The ghost was quiet for a few moments before replying. "Anger. And fear. And most of all, confusion."

"What could that possibly mean?"

"How could I know? I'm trapped in this jar! If you let me out, maybe I could explain a bit better-"

"No way."

The face turned in a circle like an exasperated child, and looked at me again. "You'll come around some day."

"Don't count on it." I huffed.

The skull let out a huff, "You'll come around some day."

"No I won't." I said.

"Alright." The skull said, drawing out the last syllable dramatically. "Her spirit seemed... fragile. Not in the visitor's sense, but in the sense that she was mentally unstable when she was alive."

"Do you think Elizabeth's husband was the one to do it?" I asked.

The ghost paused, and the spoke. "No."

I sat up, swung my legs over the edge of my bed, and padded down to the rapier practice room. The cold seeped through my nightie, and I questioned wether I hadn't brought a bathrobe. Lockwood's desk was where the article was. I hesitated, wondering if I should take it. If Lockwood were to catch me, he may think i was snooping. And who knew how that would end.

I hesitantly walked to Lockwood's desk; picked up the article about Elizabeth's death. I hadn't read it thoroughly enough before, and I feared I may have skipped over some important information. The cold floor was chilling my feet, so I sat down in the chair parked opposite of the desk. I began to read.

"23 year old Elizabeth Allen Anthonyson was found dead in the upstairs parlor of the home she shared with her husband and his family at 27 Burkes Road on the morning of the 14 of April. Her throat had been slit.

What? The obituary said her abdomen was cut open... I brushed it off, and kept reading:

"The family claim that they had no idea who killed her, and mourn for their loss. Elizabeth Anthonyson's burial took place on The 17th, and her husband Benjamin was seen somber as her body was lowered into the ground."

I set the article down. The obituary had said her abdomen had been cut open, but the article I had just read said otherwise...

Which one was true, though?

My arms dropping to my lap in exasperation. I stood up, and was getting ready to walk back to the stairs when I knocked into a bookshelf. I watched in horror as a thick, heavy book fell from its space, followed by several thinner ones. I dove forward attempting to catch them, but before I could, the books made contact with the floor with a deafening thud!

I sat in silence, listening for footsteps, but they didn't come. Cautiously, I stood again, trying to not make any more noise. I lifted the books and was placing them back in their place when I heard footsteps. I froze, and hurriedly pushed them in, and began to scramble to my feet. I tripped into the chair, causing another loud crash.

The footsteps quickened.

I was hoisting myself up when the person making the footsteps tromped down the metal staircase.

It was Lockwood. His hair was tousled, and his rapier was in his hand. His shoulders were tensed. He was running towards the desk.

He was getting ready to swing. I guess he hadn't realized it was me. I scrambled out of the chair seconds before his sword swung down, Slicing the fabric.

"Lockwood! it's me!"

Lockwood dropped his rapier with a clatter. "Lucy?! What are you doing down hereat this hour?! Are you hurt?!"

I was partly glad it was dark, because I could feel my cheeks were burning. "L-looking at the article. The one from the archives. And no. I'm not hurt."

"It's good that you're not hurt, but why were you snooping?" Lockwood wanted to know.

I looked at him, shocked. "I wasn't snooping! I couldn't sleep! I woke up, and came down to re-read the article."

"That's no excuse for going through my things."

"I wasn't! Lockwood, I was only reading the article. Honest. And I noticed something too."

Lockwood studied me for a second before speaking. "What is it?"

"The article here says that her throat was slit. The obituary says her abdomen had been sliced open. Lockwood, it's either one of them was tampered with, or one of them is fake."

Lockwood paused before lifting the obituary and the article I had just read from the desk. After a second, he turned to me, grinning.

"Good job, Luce. You're right. I wonder though, Which one is fake, and which one is real?" Lockwood pondered this for a second before speaking again; "We'll have to do some more digging tomorrow. For now, head back to bed. I'll ask George for some insight."

And with that, Lockwood tromped back upstairs, bidding me goodnight. I turned to follow him, when I tripped... Over his dropped rapier. My ankle had been scratched by one of the coils of silver on the guard. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to sting. I stood up, propping the sword against his desk, and looked at the chair. The gash Lockwood cut sure would have to be mended.

I walked back to my room, and curled up back in my bed.

I was able to fall asleep after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! I'm soooo sorry I took so long to update. School keeps getting in the way, but I'm back now. See ya!
> 
> ~Starry


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Long time no write. Lets begin!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Lockwood & Co.

I woke the next morning, a chill seeping into my quilt. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. After dressing in my usual apparel of a skirt, roll neck sweater and leggings, I tromped downstairs, and into the kitchen. George was stationed at the stove, making pancakes. The kettle was boiling cheerily. George mumbled a gruff 'good morning', and got back to his cooking.

Lockwood entered the kitchen not long after I did, and sat down. He was dressed business casual as usual, hair dashingly swept back. He looked exhausted.

"Good morning." I said finally. Lockwood looked up at me, seemingly only acknowledging the fact that I was in the room just then.

"Oh, hello, Lucy." Lockwood said. He looked to me as if he hadn't slept in ages. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, but you look like a visitor. Were you up all night?" I asked, slipping into the chair beside him.

"I didn't sleep well, but I slept some. After coming upstairs, I fell asleep, but I woke up again not much later. I lay there, wondering about what you said, Lucy. About the fake article. So I went downstairs again, and reread both articles."

George had turned from the stove, now watching us, his glasses gleaming. "Fake articles?"

Lockwood nodded, and ran his hand through his hair. "I gave up around three am, and figured it was something for George to take a look at."

The kettle whistled, and George turned, preparing the tea. "I'll take a look at it, alright. Now, what was the difference between these articles?"

"Cause of death." I replied. George set the tea trey down, and I plunked a couple of sugar cubes into my teacup. Steam rose in coils from the mirky liquid.

"What were the causes listed in the articles?" George inquired. He set the plate of pancakes down on the table, along with the butter dish, and a jug of syrup.

He ambled over to the cupboard, and pulled three dishes from the recesses. He set one in front of me, one in front of Lockwood, and one for himself. After each of us got our share of the pancakes, I answered.

"One article said her throat had been slit, one said her abdomen had been cut open."

"Huh." George paused, sipping his tea, "Sure. I'll take a look."

Lockwood smiled wearily. "Thank you, George." He leaned back in his chair, slim hands folded behind his head.

I sipped my tea carefully, so I wouldn't burn my tongue, and sliced into my smalls stack of pancakes with my fork. I had smeared butter and syrup over them.

George had served himself a whopping pile, and was chewing amiably.

I glanced at Lockwood, who was staring out the window, a forkful of pancake halfway to his mouth. He looked away, and met my eyes. We looked at one another for a second before he gave me a smile, and carried the forkful the rest of the way to his mouth.

I looked down at my own plate, trying to hide the unexplained blush that was spreading across my face.

When I looked up again, George was smirking, and Lockwood was also looking at his plate.

When I finished my pancakes, I washed off my plate, and went back up to my room.

We were going back to the Cartwright house tonight. According to Lockwood, we needed to test a theory. I hadn't the slightest clue what it was, but I had learned over the period I had spent at the agency to trust his intuitions.

Later, I walked down to the rapier practice room. I thrust, stabbed, parried, and practiced the near impossible moves Lockwood had taught me. They weren't any easier than they ever where, but it took my mind off things until it was time to leave.

About four or five minutes into my practice time, Lockwood entered the room. He removed his coat; hung it on his chair, and grabbed his rapier from where I had left it. After dusting chalk on his hands, he smiled at me, and began practicing, viciously bombarding our dummy, Esmerelda with complicated warding knots. I followed suit, practicing as well as I could.

Lockwood suddenly stopped, walking up behind me.

"No, Lucy." He placed a hand on my waist, straightening my body. "Keep your hips and shoulders square to your target, and slice..." Lockwood demonstrated in a flourish of his rapier. "Like this."

I attempted to copy him, but apparently he wasn't satisfied. He guided my hand, and then sped me up.

"There you go! You got it!" Lockwood beamed his megawatt smile. "Now, practice again, and show me."

I half smiled. "Lockwood, I don't need a teacher."

"I know," he said with another glinting smile, "But that doesn't stop me from correcting you."

I turned back to Floating Joe, practicing the warding knot until I was quite sure I was right, and went upstairs.

George had parked his chubby self on the couch in the sunroom, a plate of jelly doughnuts on his knee, and the two articles placed on his lap. By his side there was a notebook, festooned with notes and observations. I strode over, and sat down on the couch opposite of him; grabbed one of Lockwood's gossip magazines from the end table.

"How's it coming on the articles? Any ideas?" I flipped open the magazine, and examined a picture of a woman in a posh business suit.

George nodded slowly, looking up at me; glasses shining.

"The house report has been replaced. See, I went to the archives, and got one of the documents that came before the Anthonysons owned the house. Look here."

George held up the two documents. The first was dusty, yellowed with age. The second one was nearly the same.

"I don't understand. They look exactly the same."

"Au, contraire." George said. "The document that stated her abdomen sliced has been aged not with time, but with water. You can see here." George placed the document on the table, and passed it over to me. I picked it up, examining it. The paper was crinkled and thin, but when I looked closely, spots on it were crisp white.

"You... can do that with water?" I inquired, examining the paper again. George nodded, "Yes. I tested it with this." He passed me another sheet of paper, this one blank. It was damp, but other than that, it had the same aged look as both the documents.

Lockwood, who had apparently overheard us, strode in, sitting down beside me.

"So," Lockwood began, "The document Lucy found has been tampered with. But the question is, why?"

George removed his glasses and wiped them on his sweater. "To hide something. But now, the question isn't why, so much as what? What needed to be hidden so much that the person needed to replace the document?"

"Evidence?" I said.

"Exactly." He placed his glasses back on his face. "Either the person did it for no reason, which is very unlikely, or they were trying to hide something."

Lockwood perked up. "Perhaps we'll find something at the house tonight. We'll have to be careful though."

"Yes," I said, my mind flashing back to the attack, "Very."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry I haven't updated! I love this story with all my heart, and keeping up with all of them is hard!
> 
> Ok, so the next chapter will be at the house again! I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned till next time!
> 
> ~Starry


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so pumped for this chapter! It's gonna have something... I honestly don't know yet. You could call this chapter just going with it. I have like, millions of ideas swimming through my head. For other fics, and this fic included. So without further adieu, Here's a nice long chpter for ya! Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer - I do not own Lockwood & Co!

We arrived back at the house, curtains still drawn, just as we left it. The marble walls glittered in the dying light. We walked up to the door, and using the key we had been supplied with, entered without hesitation.

We made tea, and found a tin of biscuits, eating and drinking as Lockwood assessed the plan.

"Ok, Lucy, you will go back to your post." He held up a hand before I could say anything. "I'll be nearby. Shout if that Visitor comes out as strong again."

I nodded. "Right."

"George, you'll stay in the lounge."

George nodded, chewing thoughtfully on a biscuit. "Ok. I'll keep an eye out for any activity. It got pretty cold in there last time."

And we all went to our posts.

Little did I know, tonight would be much worse.

I lay my iron chains in a careful circle, and placed the skull jar beside my feet. The face was present, nose bulbous and eyes as bulging as grotesquely as usual. The ectoplasm was so thick that the grimy skull that was bolted to the bottom of the silverglass was hidden.

"So, will you possibly let me out now?"

"Not on your life."

"Ah, but I don't have a life. I am dead, so that means you will."

I rolled my eyes, glaring pointedly at the face. "No, I will not. Don't twist my words around, you wanker."

"Oh well." It said, "A ghost can try."

"And fail." I snarled.

"Oh hush now."

I did just that. The activity was beginning. I drew my rapier, fixing my stance.

I yanked my walkie-talkie from my belt.

"Lockwood, I'm beginning to get the same results as last night." I glanced down at my thermometer, which glowed sharply in the gloom. It read 20 degrees. I grabbed my hat, pulling it onto my head, zipping my parka up to my chin. "The temperature has dropped to twenty degrees. Over."

"Righto, Luce. It's getting quite chilly here as well. The Malaise is utterly awful. So thick you could cut it with a knife. Call back if you need anything else. Over and out."

I shoved by walkie-talkie back into my belt. Ghost fog began to form, grainy and swirling around the recesses of the chains. My gloved grip tightened on my rapier hilt, muscles tightening. I zeroed in with my inner ear, and sure enough, there was the weeping, just as before. It rose and fell softly, but it was getting stronger and louder. My breath puffed like mist in the thick air. The Malaise began to set in heavily, and the quick footsteps sounded again, padding along the flood in a hastened pace.

"Bang...!"

"Bang...!"

"Bang...!"

"Bang...!"

My breath quickened as the door behind me banged closed with loudest crash of all, and the puff of resembled breath brushed my ear. I pulled my parka's collar up to my ears. Heavy footsteps, panting, a cold breeze, and the black shape as it rounded the corner. The Malaise thickened, and I rested my hand on a canister of iron filings.

The crawling unseen thing was back, trail of thick, shiny blood staining the tiles as it dragged itself desperately across the hall. The sobbing trailed in it's wake. I gripped my rapier handle so hard my knuckles were probably turning white under my gloves. Even though I had experienced this before, fear still prickled down my spine. The trail sped up.

"NO! NO! NO!"

I braced myself, steeling my nerves.

I ripped my walkie-talkie fro my belt, pushing the button fervently. "The Visitor is about to appear. Over."

Lockwood's voice crackled through. "Stay calm. Throw a canister of iron filings if you need to. Remember what I said, Luce. Call me verbally if you really need me. Over and out."

I bolted into a strait-backed position. Elizabeth's ghost began to appear. Sandy blonde hair, blowing in an unseen breeze, held back by a white ribbon from her shaded face. Grey sheathe dress also billowing. The weeping was louder than ever, shrieking sobs, pounding in my ears. A pressure in my ears began to build.

I steeled myself. I could not show any fear. "Hello, Elizabeth."

"Ooh, fearless, aren't you?" The skull jar jeered. "Remember what happened last time when you did this, Lucy."

I didn't take my eyes of the Spector.

"I thought you loved me."

"Elizabeth, I can help you. I'll bring you peace."

"How could you..."

I stepped back in the circle of chains, iron filings now in my hand.

"HOW COULD YOU!"

The tears stopped again, shadow withdrawing from her face. The crimson tears streamed from her shiny black eyes. She lunged, the psychic wave strong enough to knock me backwards painfully. The pressure in my ears was building. The ghost was propelled backwards with a shriek and a spurt of ectoplasm by the iron chains.

"IT HURTS!"

The cold was prickling now, nipping at my cheeks and nose like the constant pecking of a woodpecker. She lunged again with breakneck speed. I threw the canister of iron filings, and the spirit, with a wail, disappeared. I fell to my knees, panting. The cold was now numbing. I pulled my scarf out; winding it around my neck. I waited for a few minutes before Elizabeth's form began to appear again. The psychic pressure returned.

This time, it wasn't just an aggressive apparition. She began to change. A deep gash formed in her stomach, staining her dress. Her head lolled on her shoulder. There was a gash there as well.

Blood from the wound on her stomach dripped down her arms, splattering on the marble.

I realized with shock that the obituary had not been tampered with. It had been put there on purpose. Because Elizabeth hadn't been wounded in one or the other. She had been wounded in both. Someone had put the article in the archives to show someone the truth. But who had asked it not to be there in the first place? And why?

The blood trailing from her eyes fell faster. I ripped another canister of iron filings from my belt, hurling it at the Spector. She was gone again in a burst of ectoplasm and a psychic shriek.

My breath came out in quick, tiny puffs. The air burned in my lungs. I pulled my canteen from my belt, and took a large gulp of the warm liquid. It felt amazing as it slid down my throat, warming my core.

Suddenly, the pressure in my ears began to build again. I looked forward, and there she was. She was floating above the ground a couple of inches now.

She lunged again, sending me back onto my backside. I stood up, and swung my rapier in the warding knot Lockwood had helped me with. She let out a loud shriek that left my ears ringing, barreling backwards, and bursting into a spurt of ectoplasm.

I made a mental note to use that ward more often.

She appeared again minutes later, wreathes of other light trailing behind her as she advanced towards me. She wasn't moving quickly this time. She was moving slowly, like she was immersed in molasses. The shadow on her face was there, but her marble-like eyes were visible, shining in the darkness. The pressure in my ears had moved to my head, and was pounding painfully. She was angry. Livid. I could feel the force of it slamming over me like a tidal wave.

She plowed forward suddenly with her arms outstretched, slamming into the iron barrier. The force of the impact sent me sprawling back, my head knocking on the floor painfully. The pressure was pounding like a pulse.

I pulled myself to my feet slowly, wincing at the pain in my head, and she slammed forward again. I managed to keep my balance this time, but the force almost sent me keeling over the edge of the iron chains.

I took a deep breath. I can handle this. I used the warding knot again. She was shoved backwards, into a spurt of ectoplasm. I put my hands on my knees, leaving heavily. I told myself to stay strong, and not use a Greek Fire. Not after what happened with Annie Ward.

Not even a minute later, she was back. The pressure was so bad it felt as if my head would explode. I gritted my teeth. I needed Lockwood. I had tried everything... Everything but...

I set down my rapier, and turned calmly to the Spector. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"You're going to get yourself killed doing that. Not that I care."

I nudged the jar with my foot. "I can help you."

Elizabeth's spirit paused, and then continued forward. It seemed as if she'd comply.

"I LOVED YOU!" She lunged forward again, her shriek reverberating in my inner ear. Her anger was stronger now.

The barrier stayed strong. I lifted my rapier again; held it in front of myself. This wasn't going to work. The skull jar, as much as I hated to admit it, was right.

I needed Lockwood.

I massaged my temples, trying to soothe my throbbing head. The ghost lunged again, her hair and dress now full out billowing in the unseen wind. She knocked against the barrier, rushing back with a shriek of anger and pain. I fell backwards again, hitting my head. I propped myself painfully up on my elbows. She began to advance again. The pressure in my head was pounding.

He said call verbally. So that's exactly what I did.

"Lockwood! I need your help!"

I winced at the desperate tone in my voice. I reminded myself not to show emotion around the visitor. A few seconds later, Lockwood came barreling around the corner. He jumped into the circle of chains, and the ghost whizzed over to the spot he had been in. It shrieked in frustration, and barreled toward us. Lockwood stood his ground, teeth gritted as the Spector slammed against the chain circle. He performed a warding knot I had never seen, sending her back hard, and with a shrill cry, disappeared. The pressure in my head dissipated. He then turned to me.

"Luce, are you alright?" Lockwood's dark eyes glittered in the dark, brow furrowed. He stuck out his hand, and I took it. He pulled me to my feet, and steadied me by placing a hand on my waist.

"I'm fine. Thanks, Lockwood." I leaned forward, resting my hands on my knees. "She won't be gone for long."

Lockwood nodded, and promptly stepped from the chains. He walked over to the pool of blood that still resided on the floor, dipping his rapier into the liquid.

It sizzled. "Yup. Still plasm. I don't know what else I expected it to be. Luce, Come on. We're going to the next room."

I hesitated before following him.

The room was the same as before. Empty, save for the pool of blood on the floor. The light of Elizabeth's spirit sat behind the sofa, blinking like a dying bulb. Lockwood stuck the tip of his rapier into the pool, and it sizzled exactly like the pool outside.

"Plasm. Just as I thought." Lockwood quickly grabbed my hand, leading me to the sofa. Elizabeth's spirit sat curled into a ball, semi-transparent legs pulled to her chest. Her blond hair fanned across her shoulders, whispery. Crimson tears ran down her cheeks, ebony eyes showing no emotion. She hadn't noticed us.

Lockwood led me away from the sofa. "We need to search the room. Look for anything. Anything that will help with the case."

He strode over to the bookcase. I didn't know what he meant to accomplish with that, but he was Lockwood, so I didn't think much about it. I knelt down next to the rug, laying my palm flat on the surface. Something faint. I pulled up the corner of the rug, placing my palm down flat again, this time on the floorboards.

Oh, I got something this time.

Love. Confusion. Heartbreak. Fear. Searing pain. And then, anger. White hot, burning anger. The emotions swirled together like a hurricane, beating like a drum. I pulled my hand away, and when I did, tears prickled the corner of my eyes.

"Lockwood, I got something..."

He turned to me. "What?"

"You will never know..."

"I will never know what...?" I said softly. I stood up, glancing to where Elizabeth was sitting. Except she was no longer sitting. Her anger tugged sharply at the edges of my mind like a riptide.

"Lockwood," I said breathlessly, followed by the squeal of metal as I drew my rapier, "She noticed us."

Lockwood nodded, and followed suit. He grabbed my hand, dashing from the room as the ghost lunged, legs passing clear through the sofa. The pressure in my head was back, pounding and crashing like thunder. A wind began to churn through the hall, blowing my bangs into my eyes.

Suddenly, Lockwood's grasp slipped from mine. My foot was caught. I fell down onto the ground, landing painfully on my left arm. The spirit raced closer with breakneck speed as I tried to get myself up. Curls of Other-light mixed with the Ghost fog, curling around me. Lockwood sped toward me, and grabbed my hand. He hardly gave me time to grab my dropped rapier before dashing towards the chains.

"GO, GO!" Lockwood shouted over the screeches and wails, and pulled us into the circle of chains, putting me behind him. The Spector crashed against the barrier, wailing in frustration. Lockwood shouted something I was unable to hear as he preformed a warding knot, sending her swiftly back into the wall, where she disappeared. The pressure dissipated

I let out a shaky breath. My heart was beating a mile a minute, and I was sweating, even in the chill. Lockwood's hair stuck to the back of his neck and his forehead.

He turned around, placing his hand on my shoulder, the other one moving up to brush hair from my face. I could feel my cheeks burning.

"Are you alright? That was quite a fall you took."

I looked down at my boots as Lockwood brushed another lock from my eyes. "I'm alright. My arm hurts a bit though."

I ignored my instinct to reach up and take his hand. It was warm, even through a glove; comforting even. I sighed softly.

Lockwood pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly. I hugged him back, sighing. I breathed in his scent; tea leaves and a faint musty smell. "Lockwood, I can take care of myself."

Lockwood sighed. "I know Luce... It's just hard not to..." Lockwood paused; trailing off. Pulling away; he kept a hand on my waist, "...worry sometimes"

"Lockwood, you have nothing to worry about."

"I know Lucy. Your so strong. I just..." He paused again, "If something happened to you, I don't know what I'd do. Your the best agent this agency has ever had."

I smiled, and despite myself, I felt a heat rise to my cheeks. I looked down at my boots, heart pounding.

"I..." My head snapped back up to him. "I need to protect you. I'd rather die than have you hurt."

At that moment, I felt like kissing him. I didn't know why. Butterflies flitted violently in my stomach, blood pounding in my ears. Instead of doing anything, I spoke.

"We all need to look out for one another, Lockwood. We're a team."

"Bloody brilliant." The skull jar murmured. "God, you two know how to ruin something once it's already kicked off."

I set my jaw, nudging the jar sharply with my foot. The ghost just chuckled wickedly.

Lockwood gave me a megawatt smile. "That's the spirit, Luce. Now, I think it's over for now. It's almost 6 a.m."

Sure enough, fingers of sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting pencils of light across the marble floor. The plasm was gone; Ghost fog fading.

Now that the light was present, I took in his appearance. His face was as handsome as ever, hair flecked with dust, singed a bit at the tip of one forelock. His rapier steamed lightly from the plasm still staining the blade.

George came up the stairs. His hair was messy, eyes sleepy. He looked us both once over, and smiled.

"You two seem to have quite the night. I saw some Shades, and a couple Tom-O-Shadows, but not much else. I'm guessing you had another run in with Elizabeth? Any reports?"

It occurred to me that I hadn't told Lockwood about the wounds. I piped up immediately. "About the wounds. One of the apparitions appeared with two wounds. One in the neck, and one in the stomach. Both were pretty deep."

Lockwood grinned. "Great job, Luce! But that means-"

"Yeah." I cut in, "Someone added an article. They needed someone to know the truth. Or something along those lines."

"Perfect," George remarked, "Good job, Lucy."

Lockwood's expression became serious. "Now, all we have to know is what the source is. And most of all, why was she killed, and who was she killed by?"

"I'll go to the archives." George said, "You two can go home, rest up, shower, etcetera. I'll help pack up."

And so we did. We gathered our materials, had a last cup of tea, and we were off. George was dropped off at the archives, and Lockwood and I headed back to 35 Portland Row.

"I'm exhausted." I said when we were in the cab, suppressing a yawn.

Lockwood smiled wearily, not suppressing anything when he yawned.

"Luce, what did you feel back there? When you touched the floorboards?"

I thought for a second, searching my tired mind. "I felt love. Fear, confusion. And rage. Terrible rage. I think it was echoes from when Elizabeth died."

"I think your right." Lockwood said. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat.

"For now, I need rest." I said silently.

"Ditto." Lockwood muttered back.

When we got back to 35 Portland Row, I immediately took a bath, washing way all the grime. I lay in the water, hair fanning around my head, and thought about what had happened not even half an hour ago.

The apparition was much more persistent this time. She attacked numerously. I sucked in a breath, and drained the tub. I dried off, slipping into pajamas, and thought about the case until sleep overcame me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, that was longer than I expected it to be. God. I really loved how it turned out., Did you like the fluff I stuck in there? I'd love to know! Anyway, review!
> 
> ~Starry


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Oh god, chapter 7 was really long. Ok, so This chapter will be decently long, but probably not as long as last time. The fluff is killing me, even as the writer. Oh my goodness! Anyway, Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Lockwood & Co.!

I awoke in the late afternoon, the sunlight dancing across my covers; tickling my body with warmth. I opened my eyes, and sat up. I didn't bother to change, slipping on my dressing gown, and going downstairs.

Lockwood was nowhere to be found, and George was asleep, head resting on the surface of his desk. I stalked into the kitchen, and fished a doughnut from the package that rested on the counter. I ate it slowly.

My mind involuntarily drifted elsewhere.

Lockwood. His hand on my cheek the night before. I sighed, fingertips brushing the spot his had brushed. He had been so close. I suddenly realized that being in his arms like I had last night felt... nice. More than nice, maybe. His scent made my knees wobbly, his smiles made my heart pound in my ribcage.

No. I shook the thoughts from my head, taking a large bite from the confection in my hand to drive them away completely. After finishing, I made my way back to my room, and hung my bathrobe up on the hook. I turned the water up to as hot as I could possibly stand, and waited until the bathroom was good and steamy before removing my nightie and slipping into the shower.

As I stood under the scalding water, scrubbing my hair free form oils and grime, my thoughts wandered back. I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself no.

I can't.

"What... Am I even feeling?" I murmured, voice muffled by the thrum of the water.

"You love him."

I jumped so hard I knocked my head on the shampoo holder that was clipped to the wall.

"Who's there?!"

"Who else? Don't act like you don't recognize my voice."

The Skull jar. I face palmed at my own stupidity, and then bolted into a strait-backed position.

"How are you in here?" I asked.

"You came in here this morning and took a bath. You just dropped me right here."

My eyes bulged. "Did you see me undress?!"

"Heavens, no. Thank god. I'm still in this blasted backpack. I can't see a thing."

I slumped against the wall, letting the water trace patterns down my torso.

"And to answer your little comment, I say myself Heavens no." I grunted, mocking the ghost's voice.

"Oh, Lucy. So oblivious. To your own emotions, none the less." It jeered.

I slipped down to the floor of the tub, wrapping my arms around my legs. I let the water drip from my bangs, sliding down my nose. Sighing deeply, I stood again, squirting body wash into my palm. I rubbed it into my loofa, and scrubbed my skin until it was pink from the friction and temperature of the shower. After washing my hair one more time, I stepped out, dried, the wrapped myself in a towel.

My room was cold- scratch that - cold was an understatement. It was frigid compared to the warm, steamy air in the bathroom. I shivered slightly, and dropped my towel on my bed, and changed into a fold neck sweater, a skirt, leggings, and wool socks. I combed my wet hair, replaced the towel on the rack in the bathroom, and then moved my backpack to the foot of my bed. I then made my way downstairs.

Lockwood was on the couch, nose buried in a beat up paperback. George was in the kitchen, fixing tea.

I sat down next to Lockwood.

"Are we going to the Cartwright's again tonight?"

He looked up at me, shaking his head. "No. I think we all need proper sleep."

I sighed, nodding. I was tired from the past night, even after sleeping for three quarters of the day.

I slumped back on the sofa, lolling my head back, yawning widely. Lockwood followed suit, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I'm going to town." I said, although I had no idea what I was going to do when I got there. Lockwood stood up as I did.

"I need to get out too. I'll come with you."

"Ok." I said. I made my way back upstairs, slipping my boots onto my feet.

"Prettying yourself up, are you? Do you have a date?" The entity's voice was clear, even though it was in a bag.

I could feel my face burning. "No! We're just going to town." I looked down, attempting to hide my crimson cheeks by busying myself with my laces.

"Aha, but do you know if that is what he considers it?"

I pushed the thoughts from my mind, and began tying my other boot.

"Take me with you. Come on, I'll give you advice."

"Bad idea." I said bluntly.

"Oh, come on. I'll help you out."

I snorted. "No way in hell."

The Spector gave the spectral equivalent of a scoff. "Come on! I'll give you hell if you don't."

"No you won't."

"Okay, fine. Maybe I won't. But This time, I want to help."

"Name one thing you've helped with before."

"Finding sources."

Well, I couldn't argue with that.

"True, but what would you get out of this?"

The ghost huffed. "Do this for me as some sort of... repayment."

I looked down at the bag, nudging it sharply with my foot. "You're stuck in there. I don't have to do anything."

"I could just clam up, like I did before."

To tell the truth, I would miss the skull. Even with it's annoying and snide comments.

I gave in. "Okay, fine."

"I knew you would give in."

"Do you want me to leave you behind?"

The skull was quiet for a moment. "No."

I pulled the bag onto my shoulders after pulling on my coat and gloves, clipping my belt around my hips. "Then shut up."

xXx

The day was crisp, and cold, the kind of day that nips at your nose and ears, your breath puffing in front of you like smoke. Blue skied and snowy, the sun doing nothing to keep you warm. Lockwood and I walked down the sidewalk towards the city, rapiers swing at our sides. Kids played in the snow, throwing snowballs and toy rapiers at crudely built visitors shaped out of cold white substance.

The children gazed in awe at the two of us, rapiers swaying at our sides.

Lockwood smiled at them, and led me to the next block.

"So." I began. "Are we just going for a walk?"

"Well, we could." He said, "Or, we could go to a coffee shop. Grab a bite."

"It's a date."

I ignored the skull jar's quip, and nodded. "Maybe just go to the park."

"That sounds nice." He said, nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah!"

I looked over at him, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Come on then!" Lockwood surprised me by grabbing my hand.

xXx

Howard park was a warm place in the summer. It had a large playground usually swarming with children, parents on the benches, and mothers with babies. In the dead of winter, like it was now, an old woman strolled down the pathway with her husband, the two of them conversing in hushed tones. Two children were off to the side, building a snowman while their mother sat shivering on a park bench.

In the middle of the park was a pond, where in the summer, many geese resided.

Lockwood and I walked side by side down the path, hands still loosely linked from our dash here.

Lockwood either didn't notice, or didn't care, because he didn't pull his hand away. I felt a painful twist make it's appearance in the pit of my stomach, and the frosty air somehow seemed a few degrees warmer.

"So, shall we just walk around?"

"He asked you to go to a coffee shop. Take advantage of that."

I used my free arm to elbow the backpack.

"Sure. We can go to the coffee shop you mentioned when we get too cold."

Lockwood nodded, giving me a megawatt smile. His teeth were whiter than the snow. I smiled back.

We walked in a comfortable silence before Lockwood led me to a park bench. He brushed the snow from the seat, and sat. I sat beside him, setting my backpack beside us.

"So, any thoughts on Elizabeth?"

I looked at the hem of my skirt, rubbing the fabric between my fingers.

"Does the fact that she's terrifying count?"

Lockwood laughed. "Sure. But I meant on her case."

I thought for a moment before replying. "Well, she seems to be aggressive towards her murderer, much like other victims are. She shouts things like, 'it hurts,' 'I loved you,' and 'how could you.'"

"So, it's a lover? Her husband perhaps?"

I nodded. "Possibly."

"We'll have to do some more research on Benjamin Anthonyson."

I nodded. "Agreed."

We turned to look another, and suddenly, the urge was back, tingling across my lips.

I sighed, breath pluming in the air. Before I could move, his hand was on my cheek.

He was leaning forward, rapidly closing the gap between us. Our lips were inches from each other, his breath tickling my skin. My eyes drifted shut.

Then; "Why, hello, Tony!"

Quill Kipps. His hair was as red as ever, and he was wearing the standard Fittes uniform plus a grey scarf wound around his neck. His over-jeweled rapier hung at his side. Kat Godwin stood behind him, and if it was possible, her chin seemed even sharper. She was clad in a Fittes uniform as well, earmuffs over her ears, gloves on her hands. A smirk tugged at her thin lips.

I heard Lockwood growl as he righted himself, sitting back against the bench.

"Hello, Kipps, how are you today?" Lockwood said venomously.

Kipps just smirked.

"Oh great. It's carrot top." The jar grunted.

Of course, Kipps couldn't hear the spirit.

"Getting quite cozy, aren't we?" He sneered, smirk widening. Kat Godwin snickered.

I felt my cheeks flare. Lockwood's face broke into a wolfish grin. "And just what are you two doing here, hmm?"

Kipps' smirk wavered slightly.

"Are you getting cozy?"

A blush spread across Kat Godwin's face.

Kipps' face turned red as his hair. He straightened himself, poking his nose in the air. "O-of course not. That would be unprofessional."

"Since when have you been professional? You are the one who squealed like a little girl when I poked you in the bum with my rapier all those years ago." Lockwood said slowly.

Kipps' face turned scarlet, and he grabbed Kat Godwin's arm. "Fine." He began to walk away, "You win. This time, Tony."

We watched him disappear down the path before bursting into laughter.

"His face!" Lockwood said between laughs. "It looked like a tomato!"

"I know!" I cried. We laughed together, breathless when done.

"God, just kiss already."

A blush rose to my cheeks, and I turned away, busying myself with smoothing my skirt.

When I turned back, Lockwood looked at me. "I'm getting cold. Shall we go to the coffee shop?"

I nodded. "Sure. A hot biscuit sounds amazing right now."

Lockwood stood, and took my hand, pulling me to my feet.

"Lucy..." He said softly. "I..."

"You... What?" I asked. I could feel my cheeks heat up for the umpteenth time that day.

Lockwood squeezed my hand. "It's nothing."

I had just enough time to grab my backpack before he ran off, dragging me in tow.

xXx

The coffee shop was a snug place, hardwood floors with tabled pressed against the walls, coffee stains ringing the surfaces like broken chain links. Comfy couches sat tucked in corners, lamps lit on tables beside them. Toys sat in bins for children, magazines in stacks on coffee tables.

I ordered a hot scone and a strawberry-banana smoothie, Lockwood with a hot cup of tea. We settled down at a table in the far corner of the shop. The barista smiled dreamily at Lockwood, but he seemed to be ignoring her.

I bit into my scone. My smoothie tasted fantastic. Lockwood sipped his tea carefully, as not to burn his tongue. He gave me a smile.

"So, anything you want to talk about?"

I smoothed my skirt, my mind letting itself out. Then, it dawned on me.

Back at the park, before Kipps had arrived... was Lockwood about to kiss me? And if Kipps hadn't shown up, would he have? I found myself moving my fingers to my lips, gracing them gently.

I had a feeling I probably wouldn't have minded all that much if he had.

I shook the thoughts from my mind, just as I had been doing for the longest time.

"Lucy?" Lockwood waved a hand in front of my face. "Hello?"

I snapped out of my trance, blinking a couple of times.

"Hi." I said stupidly.

"Get him to try and kiss you again. Go on. It almost happened."

"I don't want to manipulate him." I hissed. Luckily, Lockwood had been lost in space, staring at a painting.

"How dense are you? He did that on his own. Do it, before that barista comes over and does the job for you."

The skull was right. The barista was now sitting on the counter, eyes tracing up and down Lockwood's body. I glared at her pointedly.

"Not here." I said quietly. "No. I can't."

What was I even thinking?! Kissing him?! Where did that thought even come from?! I shook my head vigorously, and took a long pull from my smoothie.

I took a large bite of my scone, chewing slowly.

I could feel that painful tug had returned.

"Go on. Lucy, you love him. I can tell. Act before others do."

The tug seemed to agree. I slurped up the last of my smoothie, and put the last bite of my scone into my mouth. Lockwood's teacup was empty.

It seemed I had to. I had to before I couldn't take anymore. I could feel that that was coming soon.

"Shall we?" He said, taking my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.

I smiled. "We shall."

When we went outside, the chill came back sharply, like a slap. I took the lead. I walked us back to the park.

"Lucy... why are we here again?"

I slipped my fingers from his, walking to a great oak. I leaned against the trunk.

Lockwood stood next to me. I turned to face him.

"Lockwood, do you know that I care about you?"

Lockwood smiled. "Of course, Luce. You know I would die for you.

"Lockwood..." I muttered. A smile crept to my lips.

"I didn't get do do this earlier."

Lockwood took my cheek in his palm, stroking it with his thumb. He wasted no time in pulling me to him, free arm around my waist.

And he was kissing me.

Deep, soft, and full. His lips were firm, and soft, their warmth spreading a current through my body. I loosely framed his shoulders with my arms, kissing him back. I was lost in the kiss, cold of the day forgotten. I could feel him smiling against my mouth, and I found myself doing the same.

"About time!" Came the skull jar's voice.

The rational part of myself told me to pull away, and apologize, say I was being foolish. The irrational part told me to forget it. I went with that.

He kissed me until we were out of breath, and pulled away. Snow had begun to fall, clinging to my eyelashes, and speckling Lockwood's dark hair. His eyes danced merrily, and he was smiling. Really smiling. Not a charming smile. Just a smile. And it made me melt. I smiled back.

I found myself questioning if this was the right thing to do. Was it proper? Would it weaken us? I pushed the thoughts from my head. Lockwood kissed me again, deep, but quicker than the last one.

"Luce, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that. I've been waiting to do that."

I didn't know it then, but so had I.

"So," he said, his hand slipping into mine, "Shall we head home?"

I smiled, nodding. We held hands the entire ways home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD THAT TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE AND I'M SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE. OH MY GOODNESS SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR THIS.
> 
> God, kiss scenes are always the hardest to write. But, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll update much sooner next time, I promise. Although, now I don't really know what to do.
> 
> Ah, I'll figure it out.
> 
> Anyway, see ya next time!
> 
> ~Starry


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. So they kissed last chapter. Now I don't know what to do. So, I'm going to wing it. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Lockwood & Co.

Lockwood and I walked home hand in hand. We laughed about the oddest things, the cold stinging our faces. We arrived at 35 Portland row, breathless and cold. George had prepared dinner.

Lockwood and I stepped inside, and I sighed as my body began to warm, the heat contrasting sharply with my cold cheeks and nose. Our hands were still loosely linked.

"Eat up, you two." George grunted, noting our hands and flushed faces. "Were going back to the Cartwright's tonight."

Lockwood nodded. "Yeah. I'm aware." His hand slipped from mine, and he sat down at the table, and began eating. I followed suit, and sat down across from him.

After we were finished eating, we prepared our supplies, hailed a taxi, and we were off.

Why was he acting like it didn't happen?

He kissed me and now this?

Lockwood treated me just as he had before, the feeling that he was just beyond my reach weighing heavy like a stone in the pit of my stomach.

This left me in a whirlwind of confusion. He kissed me. And now... nothing.

It wasn't fully dark yet, so I trekked elsewhere in the gargantuan house, shouting something about searching elsewhere for activity.

I walked down a dank hallway, rapier swinging at my side. The ghost in the jar hadn't said a word all night.

The only light illuminating the hall was from a dim lamp, which was set upon a thin wooden table, casting the shadows slanted, dancing across the floor. I crossed the hallway, and placed my hand on the door.

Cold. Freezing. So cold I could feel the chill radiating through the wood. Hesitantly, I opened the door.

The room was a sitting room, with tall windows casting slanted shafts of moonlight across the floor. A red fainting couch was pushed against the wall to my left, and two overstuffed arm chairs sat on either side of a dark wood sideboard, on which a lamp was placed. I stepped forward, and observed that the bulb was shattered, littering the surface of the table with glass shards.

An intricate floral rug was placed on the floor, underneath the chairs. Bookshelves lined the walls, and a dogeared book lay open, face down on the arm of one of the chairs.

It would have been quite pleasant if the room wasn't freezing. I zipped my parka up to my chin; pulled my hat on over my ears.

"Creak...Creak...Creak... Creak..."

I froze mid-step.

Malaise. Intense malaise. Miasma too.

Where was that coming from?

I lay my chains hastily, stepping inside. With a squeal of metal, I drew my rapier.

I glanced at my backpack.

"Is there something here?"

The skull jar was silent for a moment before replying. "Oh yes. There is indeed. Maybe if you let me out, I'll help you-"

"No." I said firmly.

"Oh, you're no fun."

I adjusted my stance, and ripped my walkie talkie from my belt.

"Lockwood. I'm getting some activity here. I'm not sure what it is, but it's frigid in here."

Lockwood's voice came crackling back. "Luce, where are you? Can you describe anything?"

I thought for a moment. "Location-wise?"

"That too. But I meant the haunting."

"Uh, on the other side of the house. The doors on the right side of the lobby. And the haunting... Strong miasma. Malaise too. It's extremely cold, and I heard a creaking noise."

There was silence on the other end.

"Ok. I would like to see if you get any apparitions, and if you do, call me again. Luce, be careful."

He hung up. I sighed, my breath pluming in front of my face, and shoved the walkie talkie back into my belt.

"Creak... Creak... Creak..."

I froze again.

Something was there I hadn't noticed. It was an old rocking chair, the grain of the wood cracked with age. I turned to it.

"CLANG!"

I jumped, whirling around to the source of the noise. It was a trey. A silver trey. It had fallen from the top of a bookshelf. Hesitantly, I stepped forward; retrieved the trey from the ground. A shockwave of emotion shot through me.

Love and hate, and finally sadness so strong it left my eyes prickling. And rage.

I dropped the trey, stepping away quickly.

A pressure began to build in my head.

I could feel eyes on the back of my head. A presence, weighing on my inner ear heavily. I slowly began to turn.

Nothing.

I decided that risking it wasn't a good thing, and retreated back to the circle of chains.

The presence made a sudden crescendo, and something began to appear. It couldn't be Elizabeth... could it?

I tightened my grip on my rapier.

That was exactly who it was. her blond hair blew around her face in an unseen wind, dress billowing around her ankles. The scarlet tears dripped from her cheeks. Her wounds were faint, but still visible. Blood dripped from them, splattering on the ground. I pulled a packet of salt from the pocket of my coat, but there was no need. She was gone.

...And in her place was a piece of paper.

I hesitated once, twice, then stepped forward.

The paper was in a pool of plasm, and I used my rapier, to nudge it to where I could pick it up. I reached down, and picked it up, retreating again to the circle of iron chains. The paper was yellowed with age, the edges cracked. Careful not to tear it, I unfolded it.

It was an old newspaper article.

"The trial of Benjamin Anthonyson began yesterday evening. Mr. Anthonyson is facing the accusation of killing his wife, Elizabeth Evens, who was found dead three days ago. Anthonyson was found innocent.

Below the text, written in spidery handwriting was five words.

"It is all my fault."

This time, without hesitating, I pulled my walkie talkie from my belt.

"Apparition."

"Was it Elizabeth?"

Before I could answer, I began to hear footsteps. Boots, by the sound of it, and the distinctive patter of bare feet.

"L...cy? Lucy? Wh...t's go...g on?"

"I'm getting some activity." I gasped.

"D... y... ne...d bac.. up?"

"No... I don't thi-"

The line went dead.

I shoved the walkie talkie back into my belt, and groped for my rapier. A flutter of panic arose in my chest when I felt nothing but air. I glanced around in a frantic circle. I had left it beside the pool of plasm I had found the paper in. The crying made a sudden crescendo, and I turned on my heel.

Elizabeth's ghost was suspended in mid-air, her inky eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Her dress and hair were billowing violently.

I tore a salt canister from my belt, and ripped it open. I poured some into my hand, and threw it in a wide arc at the Specter before a spectral shriek that made my already pounding head slam, she plowed backwards, but was no sooner repeating this in reverse. She slammed into the barrier, sending drops of plasm showering over me, singing the floorboards. I moved my arms above my head, protecting my face.

I needed my rapier. I needed my weapon. I'd die if I didn't get it. But getting could kill me too.

I decided to take a risk. I made a dash, taking wide strides. The handle was inches from my fingers, and then I could feel the cool metal in my hands. I fell backwards hard onto my elbows, and Elizabeth's ghost was inches from me. I swung my rapier in a broad slash, and she was gone with a wail. I stumbled back to the circle of chains and collapsed onto my knees; panting heavily.

The door burst open.

"Lucy!"

I looked up. It was Lockwood. He knelt down beside me.

"Are you ok?" He said, dark eyes uncertain. I nodded. I would rather keep this to myself than get a lecture on how reckless I was being.

"Lucy, the line went dead. What happened?"

I looked at my knees. "I... I dropped my rapier when I found the paper... and I was nearly Ghost-touched trying to get it back."

To my surprise, no lecture came. Lockwood hugged me. He was warm, which felt incredible against my cold body. I buried my face in his chest. He slowly tilted my face to his; his lips were mere centimeters from mine. And he was moving, the space rapidly growing smaller.

His mouth was on mine. Warm, soft lips, and I kissed him back, intertwining my fingers with his. His free hand went up; cupped my cheek.

When we separated, Lockwood stayed as we were, our hands intertwined, his hand on my cheek.

"Luce, don't ever scare me like that again. You could have been hurt or..."

I looked at my knees. "I know."

"Lucy, can I tell you something?" Lockwood said quietly.

"Sure," I said.

It was Lockwood's turn to look at his knees.

"Lucy... I..."

He didn't get to finish. The presence was back.

"Drat." Drawled the skull, "That one just won't leave you alone."

I stood, and grabbed a salt bomb, ripping it free from my belt.

Elizabeth stood before me, her sobbing now hysterical. I threw the salt bomb, and she was gone in a spurt of plasm.

Lockwood rose beside me, and I turned back to him.

"You were saying?"

Lockwood took my hand; squeezed it. His other arm looped it's way around my waist.

"Lucy... I like you."

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, one so familiar that I had gotten used to it. It felt wonderful to have it gone. The weight was reblaced by a longing, that felt so close, but so far.

It was then when I realized how dense I had been. So dense that a knife wouldn't have been enough to get through to me.

It was obvious to me now that I liked him too. How long, I didn't know, but it felt like another, even heavier weight had been lifted.

I looked at him, and wrapped my arms around him, held him tightly. "Lockwood... I feel the same."

He was kissing me again. Passionately, and warmly, filled with emotion. I could feel him smile against my lips.

The hand that was holding mine went to my cheek, stroking it lovingly. My arms were around his shoulders still, hands linked together loosely.

We separated slowly, and looked into each other's eyes. Lockwood gave me a smile. Not a grin. Just a smile. A real one. One just for me. It made my heart flutter.

"Luce, go out with me. Please. I know a tea shop I think you'd like... and will you go with me?"

I smiled. "I'd love to."

Sunlight was beginning to leak through the windows, shining down upon us, warm on our bodies.

I rested my head on his shoulder; he stroked my hair gently, and we just stood there, holding each other until the sun had fully risen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ACK. I AM SUCH A BAD PERSON FOR NOT UPDATING SOONER. I AM SOOOO SORRY. So here you go! Extra fluff to make up for my absence. I hope you liked it! I'm going to be figuring out how to solve the case, and who murdered Elizabeth. I have an idea who it'll be, so that's taken care of. Anyway, if you enjoyed, I'd love to see your response, and if you have any questions, feel free to message me!
> 
> See ya next time!
> 
> ~Starry


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is a late chapter... that I have no idea how to write.
> 
> Ugh.
> 
> I'll try my best! I just hope I don't fail. If you've read my story 'You Always Brighten My Day' which was a date story, you probably know that I can write date chapters, I'm just not very good at them. And at the time it was written, I was used to writing with Robin and Starfire.
> 
> Lockwood and Lucy?
> 
> That's another story.
> 
> Well, enough of my rambling. Let's begin.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Lockwood & Co.!

The next morning, I was heading downstairs after waking up when I remembered I had a date. With Lockwood. At noon.

I scrambled into the kitchen, and checked the clock.

10:22

Oh no.

I ran back upstairs, and got in the shower. As soon as I got out, I blow dried and combed my hair, then searched my jewelry box (which has quite a limited selection), and chose a pair of diamond studs, the diamond necklace Lockwood had given me, and a silver barrette.

To me, makeup is a waste of time, so I skipped it. Clothing was my priority now. After digging through my closet for a good ten minutes, I surfaced with a blue pleated skirt, a pair of black flats, white tights, and a cream colored v-neck jumper. It wasn't much, but it would do.

I pulled the ensemble on, and added the hair clip. I looked presentable.

I strung the necklace around my neck; fixed the earrings to my ears.

I trotted downstairs, walking into the kitchen. George was at the sink, scrubbing a plate. He glanced over his shoulder.

"Going somewhere?" He asked.

I nodded, focusing on fiddling with the hem of my skirt.

George turned back to the pile of dishes in the sink.

"Where?"

I dropped the hem of my skirt, settling for my necklace. "A date."

George whirled around, glasses gleaming. "With?"

"None of your business." I snapped.

"Oh, no. Lucy, tell me now."

I sighed, and shook my head. "No."

"Yes."

My face flushed lightly.

"No."

"Yes."

" _NO!"_

"But you must."

"I said no!"

"I'm saying yes."

"Okay fine!" I cried, defeated.

In an almost inaudible voice, I muttered; "It's Lockwood."

"Sorry?" George said, a grin spreading on his face.

"It's Lockwood."

George slammed his palms together, the grin widening. "I _knew_ it would happen! I was starting to think you two would stay clueless forever."

I looked down at my feet, my face turning scarlet. "He..."

"He what?"

"He kissed me."

George let out a whoop, and clapped me on the back. I cocked an eyebrow at him as he went back to doing the dishes. I found myself wondering if someone had spiked his doughnuts.

* * *

Around 11:50, Lockwood came downstairs. He looked dashing as always, with his megawatt grin. He was clad in a maroon jumper with a dress shirt underneath, and a pair of dark skinny jeans with dress shoes. I was surprised, as the only time I'd seen him dress casually was the time we had to go undercover. And he wore b _ermuda_ shorts. _Flowery_ bermuda shorts.

He looked nice. Handsome.

"You look great, Luce." Lockwood said, taking my hand. He smiled when he saw the necklace. "I see you still wear that."

"Why wouldn't I?" I said, grinning quizzically.

Lockwood shrugged; squeezed my hand. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

Lockwood and I pulled on our coats, him in his signature long coat, me in my peacoat. It was briskly chilly as usual, and wearing flats and tights was proving not to be such a good idea. Lockwood and my hands were still joined, fingers interlocked.

"So... why... did you ask me to come out with you?" I asked.

Lockwood smiled. "I thought I made that clear."

A smile grazed my lips. "Yeah. I guess you did."

Lockwood squeezed my hand. "Luce, I-"

"Oh! Hello, there Tony!"

Lockwood stopped in his tracks, grip on my hand tightening.

"Hello, Quill."

The Fittes agent gave us a cocky grin. His hair was red as always, and he was wearing a dark blue scarf and earmuffs with his slate grey coat; bedazzled rapier at his side.

"Ah! And Julie!" Kipps said, turning his grin to me.

"It's _Lucy._ " I said sharply.

"Yes, yes. Whatever." Kipps stepped forward, eyes flicking to our joined hands. "Well, well! What's this?"

I sneered at him. "It is _none_ of yo-"

Lockwood cut me off. "We happen to be heading out. This is relevant to you why?"

Kipps stiffened. "No reason."

Lockwood's grin was wolfish. "Where's Godwin?"

Kipps frowned, looking at Lockwood steadily. "Why would she be here?"

"Ah. Because you two seemed to be doing something last time we saw each other."

Kipp's face turned flaming red, and he turned away. "Well, nice seeing you, Tony. Julie."

He stalked away.

I growled. "I will never get used to him calling me _Julie._ "

"And I _hate_ being called Tony." Lockwood snarled.

We began to walk again.

"So," I began, "where are we going?"

Lockwood smiled softly. "A tea shop."

I smiled back. "That sounds nice."

* * *

The tea shop was a small, squat building, with lace curtains, and colorful floral wallpaper. The furniture was dark wood, floor tiled.

Lockwood sat us down at a table with a white lace table cloth, a small vase of pink roses siting atop it. It was quite cozy.

A girl with curly blonde hair, dressed in a pink blouse and white skirt, topped with a white apron and flats walked over briskly.

"Hello," she chirped, eyeing Lockwood for a second, "May I take your order?"

Lockwood gave her a megawatt smile. "Pitkins breakfast, if you have it, with cream and sugar for her, just sugar for me. Oh, yes, and some strawberry cake. Two slices."

The waitress grinned back at him, but did not move.

Oh no.

"You're really cute." She said, twirling a blonde ringlet around one finger.

Lockwood smiled, a little more strained than before. "Thank you."

He turned back to me. "So, Lucy, are you liking it here?"

I nodded, "Oh yes. It's lovely."

The waitress's brow wrinkled; I assumed she wasn't used to being ignored.

"Will you take me out sometime?" The waitress asked sweetly. Lockwood's smile twitched as he turned to her.

"Miss, I'm on a date as it is. I have someone. So _no._ I will _not_ take you out."

The waitress rolled her eyes, and stalked off.

"Does that happen often?" I asked, absently fiddling with the pendant of my necklace.

Lockwood nodded. "Oh, yes. Yes, it does. It's quite irritating. There was one time when this one girl just wouldn't leave me alone. I eventually-"

"Lockwood." I said firmly, "You've told me this story."

Lockwood laughed. "I suppose I have."

The streets were bustling with men and women, adorned by sprigs of lavender and various silver trinkets. The soft lavender hues of Tendy's mixed with the dark maroons of Rotwell and the somber grays of Fittes. A jolly faced man with a bushy mustache sat at the street corner; he was selling hot chocolate.

Lockwood noticed. "Do you want some cocoa? I can go get some."

I _was_ quite cold. I nodded, squeezing his hand. He gave me smile, and with a few quick strides, was over at the stand. I shivered slightly, shoving my already gloved hands into my coat pockets. My breath plumed out in front of my face in a hazy fog.

"Hello, there." I turned, looking up. A boy stood there. He had very blonde hair, thin faced with grey eyes, and slightly shorter than Lockwood. He was wearing a Rotwell uniform, maroon coat and dark slacks pressed and spotless. An ornate Italian rapier rested at his hip.

I nodded in his direction. "Can I help you?"

The boy stepped closer, and I stepped back. "You're cute." He remarked. "What's a little doe like you doing out here?"

"I'm an Agent." I said flatly, patting my rapier hilt. "I assure you, I'm no doe."

"Oh, so you're more of a panther. Sleek and beautiful, but quite deadly."

"Uh, sure." I said, flatter than before. I turned to leave, but the boy grabbed my wrist. I wrenched it away, turned on my heel.

" _What_ is your problem?" I asked him sharply.

"Wound you fancy a date?" He asked. He smiled then, but his smile was nothing compared to Lockwood's.

"I'm on one, thank you." I snapped. He raised his thin eyebrows.

"Well, can I at least learn your name?"

"No," I said, "no you can't."

But he continued anyway. "Well, I'm William. William Johnson."

"Cool." I said, "I don't care."

"You should." He remarked smugly, "You said you're an agent, so what company do you work for? Fittes? I've never seen you at Rotwell's. Perhaps Tendy's or Grimble? You're not wearing a uniform."

"That's because I work for Lockwood & Co." I said slowly, "Combe Carey Hall? Mrs. Barret's tomb? The Edmund Bickerstaff incident? That was us."

Johnson regarded me more closely. "Then you're... Carlyle? Lucy Carlyle?"

I was slightly surprised that he knew my name, but not surprised that he knew our company, as we had made the _Times_ many times before. The reason I was surprised he knew my name is because it's usually misspelled, or I'm not mentioned at all, and George is another story. Lockwood is usually the one who gets that sort of attention. I glanced over my shoulder at the cocoa stand, only to see Lockwood chatting animatedly with the man behind the counter. I sighed inwardly.

"Yes," I said, "That would be me."

"Ah, nice to meet you Ms. Carlyle. Now that that knowledge has been obtained, it only makes me want a date more."

"I am afraid you're mistaken, because as I said before, I'm _on_ one."

"Maybe after this date is over then? Make time for me?"

I shook my head. I couldn't believe this guy. "I actually rather fancy the person I'm on a date with right now, thank you very much."

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Lockwood finally deciding to return. He was holding a pair of lidded foam cups, one in each hand.

"Back!" He grinned cheerily, handing me a cup. "Luce, who is this?"

"William Johnson, apparently." I said.

"Hello, are you a friend of Lucy's?" Lockwood asked. He re-laced his fingers with mine, squeezing my hand gently.

"No." I said before Johnson could say anything. "He was bothering me."

Lockwood looked from me to Johnson in a quick glance, and then back to me. "What was he done?"

"Asked me out repeatedly. It's getting quite tiresome."

Lockwood's grin was slightly wolfish. "Well, She has a boyfriend, thank you."

"Well, she could have me. Who's her boyfriend? I don't see him."

Lockwood laughed, but not kindly. "Me. I am. Now, please leave Lucy alone. We will be leaving now. Good day."

And with a quick tug, Lockwood led me away.

"Thank you." I breathed.

"No problem." He said stiffly. His strides were quick and sharp.

"B-boyfriend?" I asked. Lockwood looked down at me, smiling.

"If you'll have me."

I grinned too. In another move, I had flung my arms around his neck. Well, arm. I was holding his hand with the other, but I still had to be careful, as I was holding my cocoa on my hand. I buried my face in his shoulder. His arms were around my waist.

"Yes" I said, "I'd like that."

He chuckled merrily. I looked up, and he kissed me, one hand stroking my cheek. I smiled into the kiss, deepening it.

We broke apart a few seconds later, resting our foreheads together.

"Luce, I love you." Lockwood said, his smile gleaming. I grinned.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ACK I HAVE NOT UPDATED IN SO LONG. I AM SOOO SORRY. Anyway, I'm writing a couple of other things currently, so expect some new stuff soon!
> 
> See ya later!
> 
> ~Starry


	11. Chapter 11

Lockwood and I walked home laughing and joking, just like the first time we went out. When we arrived home, George was lounging in the sun room reading a comic book. He perked up when he saw us enter. We sat down on the love seat opposite him, kicking off our shoes. He placed a chubby thump in between the pages he was reading, and turned towards us. His expression showed little that I could read.

"Where did you go?"

"A tea shop." Lockwood answered.

"Was it nice?"

"It was fine."

"Oh come on." George was practically glowing. "You've got to give me more details than that."

"No I don't."

"Yeah, you do."

Lockwood laughed, squeezing my hand tenderly. "Oh, we just had a sit down at the tea shop. It was nice. We got cake, the works."

"Well?" George's glasses were shining, "Anything else?"

"I kissed her." Lockwood's smile was boastful.

I nudged him in the rips sharply, my face turning pink. George broke out in a grin, chuckling lightly.

"It's about bloody time." He clapped his hands together, giving a hoot. "I thought it would never happen. Could you two _be_ more obvious?"

I rolled my eyes, leaning my head against Lockwood's shoulder.

"We have to go back to the Cartwright house tonight." Lockwood said suddenly. "So let's go suit up. We've got work to do. Let's catch us a ghost."

* * *

As soon as we got to the house, I was back in the room I had found the newspaper clipping in. The dying light streaked through the curtains in fingers, dancing across the floor.

I had stationed myself in the middle of the room, rapier in hand. The sun sank below the horizon, casting the room into darkness. It was a moonless night, and the stars speckled across the sky, full and bright. They glittered like diamonds.

I lit a lantern and placed it beside my feet, the skull jar on my other side, tucked inside my backpack. It was glowing green, the plasm swirling around the ghostly face. It illuminated the floor around it in a fan of eerie light.

I plucked my thermometer from my belt, reading the illuminated numbers that were emblazoned on the screen.

_52°F_

It was dropping steadily. I sat down crosslegged in the circle of iron chains.

"Are you getting anything?" I asked the skull.

_"Whispers. That's about it, though."_

I tightened my grip on my rapier and did a scan of the room with my eyes.

The temperature dropped. I could see my breath pluming around my face.

"Elizabeth?"

Nothing. I slowly placed a hand on a salt bomb.

The floorboards creaked, and a pressure was beginning to build behind my ears.

Crying again. This was getting predictable. And we were no closer to finding the source. I pulled my hat on over my ears, my gloves onto my hands.

I stepped outside the circle. I had a feeling that what I had been seeing on the staircase hasn't been the entire thing.

Had the haunting started here? But I had to wait and see.

I had to think.

Where could the source be? Here? The room upstairs? Why had she materialized here? I stood up, pacing around the circle.

Oh.

_Oh._

This is where she was stabbed.

But if she was stabbed here, there would have to be something to indicate that. Weapon? No. If the source was down here, then the apparition wouldn't go much father than the door.

Because this room wasn't the focus of the haunting. Yes, the room was included in said haunting, but no. The focus was more than that. I had a feeling that the focus was all the way from this room to the hallways that leads to the foyer to stairway, and finally to the room upstairs.

The source had to be up there. Where, I didn't know. But I needed to. And knowing specters, they don't give up their sources easily.

Suddenly, it all made sense. That was why she had chased us out of that room.

But why had she called me a liar?

The room grew colder, stinging my face. It felt as if a pair of eyes were boring into the back of my head. I turned. Nothing.

Cautiously, I stepped from the circle. I stepped closer to the rug which took up a portion of the room, and lifted the corner. The spot was frigid. I pulled my thermometer from my belt. It was ten degrees colder than the surrounding air. A great dark stain was spread across the floorboards. I touched my fingertips to the surface, and my senses exploded.

Fear, anger, and most of all pain.

Whispers. Less than whispers. They tickled my inner ear like feathers. They carried on, and then crescendoed.

A strangled scream.

_"Drip... drip... drip..."_

I could smell a strong scent of blood, pungent and fresh.

A dragging sound, and a grunt. The sound of a blow, and a great thud. I stiffened, the spectral sounds bristling against my inner ear.

The crying was back. I heard a tear of fabric, and the dripping noise stopped.

Heavy, dragging footsteps, away from the room.

Someone else got up. More heavy footsteps, though much quicker. I heard a shout, and the dragging footsteps sped up to a run.

I jerked away, dropping the corner of the rug.

I needed to get to the landing. I gathered the chains into my arms, and made a run through the great foyer and up the stairs.

Hastily, I spread the chains in a wobbly circle, my rapier gripped tightly in my hand. The door behind me slammed again, there was the puff of breath. A door slammed shut in the recesses of the house.

There was the pooling of the ectoplasm as the phantom person dragged them self along the corridor, and the heavy footsteps.

_"NO. NO NO."_

And finally, the apparition began to form.

I gave a half smile.

"Hello, Elizabeth."


	12. Chapter 12

The form of the woman before me wavered as another wail ripped through the air, and the ghost fog rippled around her. I put my rapier up, guarding myself. My ears rung form the spectral scream, and I grit my teeth. The cold rippled outward like a wave, engulfing me it it, swallowing me. The temperature was dropping. Rapidly. I didn't need a thermometer to tell me _that_ bit. The blood was dripping down her face, dripping from her chin. Her dress was stained, gory wounds in full view.

She had appeared broken, just as she was.

The figure dropped to her knees, and began to sob.

_"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

...What?

_"Forgive me."_

I wavered, but didn't let my guard down. Her form quivered, but I still did not move. Why was she apologizing, I wondered?

_CRASH!_

I jumped, but her form did not waver this time. The noise sounded like someone hammering. The noise had come from the sitting room. I looked over, and the door stood ajar. Cautiously, I stepped over the rim of the iron chains. Elizabeth did not move. Not even an inch. I walked slowly, trying not to make a sound. Moonlight spilled from the doorway, casting a cone of light across the floor. I opened it cautiously.

_CRASH!_

I jumped again. Elizabeth was closer, but her position had not changed. I opened the door fully, and stepped inside, walking to the centre of the room. The weeping grew in volume, and the psychic pressure pushed against my inner ear like a cinderblock. I stepped forward again, but lost my balance with a tremendous noise of splintering wood. I stood there awkwardly for a moment before prying by foot free of the hole it had created. I stepped back and peered into the dark opening. To my surprise, there was something there. Lodged between the installation, just peeking out. It looked to be a bundle of papers. I knelt, reaching for the bundle curiously, but the temperature dropped again. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I dared not look, and snatched the bundle, shoving it into the waistband of my skirt. The prickling feeling grew more intense.

She was right behind me.

I turned, and my fears were confirmed. She stood about four feet away, and her black marbled eyes were dripping with bloods. The fresh wounds were still displayed on her body. I tore a salt bomb free, and threw at it her, running for my circle of iron chains in the hall. I heard a ghostly shriek erupt behind me, and I dove into the safety of the iron, landing hard on my belly. I shifted to my side, peering around the moonlit landing. I set the bundle down beside the Skull Jar, and pulled myself up into a crouching position. Slowly, I reached down, taking the papers into my hands. They were bound with a faded pink ribbon, probably satin, which was stiff with age. The papers were yellowed and stiff. Water damage stained them. I undid the ribbon as carefully as possible, and a cloud of dust erupted into my face, causing me to cough violently. I waved the dust away to the best of my ability, leaving behind the scent of mildew. I set the papers down, and extracted one from the pile. Something was written there in fine, angular handwriting. Some of the words were smudged, and it took me a minute to decipher what they said. Others were completely illegible. They were letters. The one I had picked up had a heart smeared in the right corner, in red ink that looked suspiciously like blood. I shivered, and began to read.

_My Dearest Lizzy,_

_Why have you left me? I gave you everything. I loved you dearly. And you left me for him. Him, of all people. You could have had me, and I loved you so! We were going to be together. And then you left me for him. Do you know how much that hurt me? I felt betrayed. BETRAYED. YOU SILLY GIRL. _ won't you _ _ to me? I need you, my Lizzy. And you know you need me._

_From,_

_J_

J? Who is J? I set the letter down gingerly. Elizabeth had left one man for another? Is that why she was killed? I didn't know, but if this mystery was worth untangling, I would need to find out more about the night that Elizabeth died. To do that, I needed to read the letters further. Maybe Elizabeth left more clues? In a bedroom? I would need to explore. But I knew that tearing up floorboards was probably not the best way to get on the Cartwright's favor. I picked up another letter.

_My Dearest Lizzy,_

_Why won't you write me back? I am not to be ignored, my love. I loved you first, and I shall love you last! Why can you not see that I am the only one for you? And yet you have begun to look at me in away that makes me feel if you do not want me. But that is impossible. I long for your touch. Your love. My Lizzy, why won't you listen? That rich boy will only do you harm. I will keep you safe from him. You will be safe with me and only me. I need you, and I know you need me, my love._ _Leave him. Come to me, before it is too late. Let me take care of you._

_With love,_

_J_

The next one was even less legible. I managed to make it out, though. There was the sinister heart again, adorning the upper right corner.

_Lizzy, my love,_

_I have been watching you. He shows you love, and you are so foolish to take it literally. He does not care for you. My love, he is using you. I try to speak with you. I tried to speak with you today in the garden but you called me insane. You said that I was wrong, and that you loved your precious Benny. It makes me sick. SICK. I watched you tonight, and I am outside your window as I write this. I watch you with him, dancing to the gramophone. You are starry eyed. But I know he is wearing a mask. Lizzy, he will hurt you. I need you to listen._

_J_

Mad. He was mad. Whoever this 'J' person was, he seemed to be a former friend of Elizabeth's. From what I observed, I could infer that J was in love with Elizabeth, but it was one sided, and he had some sort of illusion that he and Elizabeth were together. When she fell in love, he seemed to have lost it completely. I had a sickening feeling that the heart was not ink, as well. I picked up the next letter, fearing the worst. Dark blotches smeared the ink in some places, staining the paper.

_Lizzy,_

_How could you? You looked so beautiful at the party today, and you even asked me to come. You were all I could look at. Oh, my love. Can't you see why I need you? You don't know it yet, but you need me. You told me you loved me! It was the happiest moment in my small life. But the something terrible happened. You walked to the top of the stairs. Hand in hand with that... prat. How could you? You can't be! Marrying another! But you told me you loved me! Lizzy, why?! WHY?! WHY?! Tears in my eyes, I asked you so. Lizzy, how could you?! You looked at me with pity in your eyes of all things, and told me that you loved me, but you loved him more, and that marrying him is what you wanted. You asked me to be happy for you. WHY LIZZY?! Am I not good enough for you? I am full of despair as I wright this. I am emptying my broken heart's contents into this letter._ _I feel like I will die without you. Can't you see that?_

_J_

By the time I had finished that, I understood. J was in love with Elizabeth. Deeply so. It apparently wasn't one sided. Elizabeth did love J, but she loved Benjamin more. J came off as a selfish person. I know if I loved someone, I would want what was best for them. I would want them to be happy. But J seemed to want Elizabeth to be happy, but with nobody but him. I braced myself, and picked up the next letter.

_Lizzy,_

_I am dying inside. My heart is breaking piece by piece every day. It is the day of your wedding. Of course I attended. You looked so beautiful in your long white dress. Your hair looked like golden silk, spun up into a complex weaving. You exchanged vows, I cannot believe it. You looked so happy. But it wasn't with me. I had tears down my cheeks as you kissed your new husband. The reception was beautiful as well, but you were the most beautiful specimen there. I cried and cried. Why won't you love me, Lizzy? You say you do, but you marry another._

_J_

My hands shook as I picked up the last letter.

_Lizzy,_

_I have done something unforgivable._ _I killed her. My sweet, sweet Lizzy is dead, and I killed her. What have I done? Was I so blinded by rage and jealousy that it infected my mind? I never meant for this to happen. I cannot ask for forgiveness, because that is long out of my reach. My love for her lives on, but I have gone too far. I cry as I write this letter, and I sit beside her body. She is beautiful even in death. Her skin is pale, and her hair fans around her head like a golden halo. I hope my sweet Lizzy goes to Heaven, and that she will see the sister that she misses so dearly again, and that she will not hate me. I understand if she will, as what I have done is unforgivable. Everything that has happened in the past few minutes is a blur. I can only remember seeing the fear in her beautiful eyes, and the mere thought of the fear being caused by me is enough to nearly destroy me. What have I done? Lizzy, I understand you will never read this. I know what I have done, and it tears me apart. But if you can, be it unlikely, find it in your heart to forgive me, though it is a mere plea. It is not begging, it is a mere plea. Because I know it will never be granted. I took away your happiness. I was darkened by jealousy and hate. Lizzy, I know you will not give me forgiveness. The only one left to ask is God himself. Though a small part of me believes that I will not receive forgiveness there either. I must live with your blood staining my hands for as long as I live. It will be a constant reminder of what I have done. I have been careless, and I will force myself to live for as long as I can, and let myself be tortured by what I have done. It is what I, a murderer, deserves._

_Though my request is still futile..._

_God..._

_Please forgive me._

_J_

My fingers were numb. My brain was whirling.

J killed Elizabeth.

But the only question was... Who was J?


	13. Chapter 13

J...

Who was J? A former lover? A good friend? I looked down at the letters again, gingerly placing the letters onto the unfurled ribbon. The poetic words echoed in my head, and I pulled my knees to my chest. We had found a murderer, but the final elusive piece of the puzzle was still missing.

It was just out of my reach. One of those things that you can feel your fingertips just brushing

I sorted through the letters again, another time, and again, once more. Nothing substantial. Just that single initial. J. It could stand for anything. I was pretty sure that J was a man, but what said initial stood for was a silhouette in the foreground of the whole affair. His motive; Jealousy. His name; J. Whatever in fresh hell the blasted initial stood for.

I clutched the letters to my chest, my breath heavy. My mind was whirling with more questions than I felt possible for one person to wonder. I sighed, and stood up, tying the ribbon (with difficulty) back around the letters, and held them to my chest.

George needed to see this. Badly. He'd have kittens with this new information.

I slung my backpack containing the Skull jar over my shoulder, and looped the chains spread out on the floor into a coil, which I hooked to my belt. Armed with my rapier, I stepped away from the spot I was previously, and placed the letters gingerly in my coat pocket.

The stairway was dark, the pale marble of which it was crafted catching the glow of the moonlight coming from the front windows. It casted shadows in the corners of the stairs, the candles with were placed on the steps circular pinpoints of light. More shadows gathered around where the light could reach no more. I stepped down the stairs with small taps, carful not to stir anything.

_"Lucy, that J character sounds sinister."_

I shook my head. "No, he seems obsessed. But at the same time, kind of sad. I feel a bit bad for him, to say the least."

_"But he's a killer."_

"True, but I still would like to know more about him."

I reached the basement door, the moonlit foyer at my back. I opened the door, and stepped inside. There was a dark hallway leading to another door, and I switched on my penlight to aid my vision. I entered the room, and switched the penlight off.

My voice came in a harsh whisper. "George."

Nothing. I stepped forward more, hissing out his name again. "George, I found something you need to see."

I saw a dark shape bend down in the dark, and a candle flashed on. The light of the flame caught the the gleam of his glasses. George stepped forward, gesturing for me to join him in the circle of chains.

"This better be good. I'm bored, and all I've seen is a grey haze and there's a stone knocker a while away. Probably in the wine cellar." He looked even more unpleasant in the dim light, doughy face set into that of sardonic indifference.

I swallowed thickly, and held the letters forward. "I found these under some floorboards."

George took of his glasses, wiping them on his sweater, and then placed them back on. "Let me see then."

He undid the ribbon, sending dust flying once more. I coughed violently again, he just batted the cloud away with a huff. I watched in silence as he sorted through the letters.

The room we were in was frigid, and weak tendrils of ghost fog curled around the recesses of the iron chains. Small, slanted windows were situated at the top of each wall, each were centered. Pale moonlight seeped in, illuminating the room in small portions, giving it an eerie glow. There was little furniture except for an old trunk tucked into the left corner of the room, and the wall opposite the door was lined with canned and dried goods stacked neatly on shelves. The room smelled of these goods, slightly mixed with the smell of dust.

"Lucy..."

"Yes?"

"You are a genius."

"Are you okay? You've never complemented me for as long as we've known each other."

"Well, I am now. Don't take it too seriously."

There was the George I knew.

"This makes so much sense. Whoever J was... J was the one who made the counterfeit papers. To hide that he killed her, or to confuse people about what wound killed her. Either one, but I suppose it was to set his pursuers astray. And it seemed to have worked. No one with the first or last initial 'J' was mentioned in any of the articles I found." He furrowed his brow, deep in thought.

"So J was defiantly who killed Elizabeth?" I inquired.

"Yes. There's no doubt about it. Also, he did mention it in the last letter. Did you read them?"

I stiffened. "Yes. Of course I have. I was the one who _found_ them."

"Well, you did ask me if J was the one who killed Elizabeth. So I assumed you hadn't read them."

"Shut up."

"Ooh, feisty."

"I have half a mind to hit you."

"I dare you."

"George, I've thrown dishes at you. I am _not_ afraid to hit you." To prove my point, I prodded him in the shoulder with my knuckles. Not hard, but enough to make him stumble back a few inches.

He sighed. "Touche."

"So who do you think J was to Elizabeth? A former lover? Childhood friend?"

"I'd have to examine these letters more. And look for connections. Elizabeth's family. I need to know what her life was like before she married Benjamin Anthonyson. Where she lived, what year, who her family was. i need to know more. What kind of person was she?"

"That's probably a good idea, but where on earth are you going to find such information?"

His glasses gleamed in the candlelight, and he grinned. "The archives, of course."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is so late. Please forgive me.

We left the house roughly around 6:30. The sun was just beginning to peek it's face over the snow covered horizon as we clambered into the cab with sore limbs and heads full cobwebs. I fell asleep for roughly ten minutes with my head on Lockwood's shoulder, and I woke to him asleep, his cheek against the window. George was the only one awake, rapt with attention at the musty letters, His fingers were coated with dust which had fallen from the paper. I blinked at him slowly before drifting off again. I really didn't pay much mind to what he was doing. I was far to tired to care.

When we got back to the house, I took a hot shower and without another thought, clambered to bed, falling asleep on contact with the mattress. It had been a long night.

***

I woke the next morning to the smell of bacon in the air. I sat up, my head still muddled from sleep, and slid out of bed, wincing as my feet hit the cold floor. I slid on a sweatshirt over my nighty, and padded downstairs. The kitchen was bathed in sunlight, and I took my usual place at the table across from Lockwood, who was eating toast. George was sitting in his seat, the letters from J spread out across the table. He had photo copies of the letters laying beside each real one, small notes jotted down in the margins. I took a slice of toast from the plate in the middle, slathering it with peach marmalade. I ate slowly, taking account of the silence. Though it was short lived, and soon broken by George. 

"So I went to the archives this morning." His expression was one of self-satisfaction.

I rolled my eyes. "And? Did you find anything on the identity of this mysterious 'J'?"

He shook his head. "No. I think we may have to do some digging in the house for more on him. He confessed. But if we want to find out who he is, I believe that's what we need to do. If we found something there once regarding our little mystery, we're bound to find something again."

Lockwood gave an amiable grin. "Love that optimism, George. Keep that up. We aren't going back tonight, though. We're just going to take a day to rest. I'm most likely going to be in the library if either of you need me." And with that, he shoved the last bite of his toast into his mouth, gave a closed mouth smile, and exited the room.

I sighed, my eyes resting on his plate, which he had left on the table. I stood, placing it in the sink, and then sitting back down. I soon finished my toast, and went after Lockwood to join him in the library. George gave me a quizzical look as I left and I once again rolled my eyes. I could hear him chuckle as I shut the door, striking a nerve. I steeled myself and went down the hall, entering the Library. Lockwood was draped over his usual arm chair like a decoration, his long legs over the arm rest. His long fingers turned the pages of a gossip magazine halfheartedly. He looked up when I entered the room and smiled, standing. He lay the magazine face down on the arm rest and came towards me, pulling me to him. He rested his chin on the crown of my head, his arms around me. I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent. He smelled like his favorite tea, earl grey, and cinnamon. I wasn't quite sure why with the cinnamon bit. 

"Morning, Luce."

"Good morning."

He shifted, looking down at me, his dark eyes soft. "Did you sleep well?"

I nodded, giving him a half smile. "You?"

"Like a log."

I gave a short laugh, burying my nose in the crook of his neck. "How's your magazine?"

He snorted. "Trashy. There's a ludicrous rumor that Steve Rotwell has been sleeping with Penelope Fittes. That, or he's been seeing her."

I made a face. "Smashing."

"It's garbage, though. Why on earth would two rivals be together?"

"Who knows. Our relationship was unlikely, but here we are."

"Oh, Luce. We both know it would have happened one way or another. It was inevitable with how strong I feel for you."

I smiled, my cheeks blooming pink. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am. I'm the leader."

I hit him playfully on the shoulder.

"Abuse! Leader abuse!" He laughed, and I joined in, kissing him on the mouth softly. He kissed back, his slim hand cupping my cheek.

We separated and rested our foreheads together. "I love you, Luce."

I smiled, the pink in my cheeks coming back. "I love you, too." 

His expression was carefree. "I don't know why I didn't tell you ever before. Ever since Combe Cary Hall. Since we almost died in those catacombs, as you almost got yourself killed in that well, I knew I needed you. I stopped you."

"You saved my life."

"Yes, and I'm glad I did, Lucy." 

I rested my head on his shoulder, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird. His heartbeat was erratic too from what I could hear. Neither of us wanted to pull apart, so we just kept standing there. I wrapped my arms around his slim waist.  He was warm, and I could feel his lean body through the fabric of his dress shirt. It didn't surprise me with all the rapier play he does.  

I finally broke the comfortable silence. "So George has no idea who J is?"

He chuckled. "No. And it's driving him bloody mad."

"I thought that was how he usually is." I said shortly; Lockwood chucked again. "I suppose it is."

He pulled me to the arm chair, which was wide enough to accommodate two people if they squished together quite a bit. This wasn't a problem for us with how slim Lockwood is. He pulled me to him so I could rest my head on his shoulder. It was nice. We spent a few more minutes in comfortable silence, and Lockwood and I had begun to flip through the pages of the magazine he had been been reading before. However, that was soon broken as George stepped through the door. He made a face, but sat down in his normal chair. The letters were in a stack in his hand. 

His eyes were wild. "Why do you think J killed Elizabeth?"

I stared. "Jealousy. I read those letters, George. I was the one who found them."

"Yes, right. To find out who J is, we need to find a diary, something of Elizabeth's. Something she wrote in. She seemed to have had something with J, and the place I think she's put that information is a diary. If we find the diary, we find the killer."

Lockwood was beaming. "Brilliant." He squeezed my hand. "We have to go back tonight. Forget rest, there's no rest for the wicked. We can rest when we get back. We have a case to solve."


	15. Chapter 15

So here we were back in the house. It was dark again, and I did not have the chains around my feet this time but slung across my body in a coil. It made moving a bit easier and was an easier defense if the Specter was to suddenly rush at me, as I could just drop them around my feet if I needed. But now was time to look for the diary. If there, in fact, actually  _was_ a diary in question. George had found floor plans at the archives and had printed out a copy for myself, him, and Lockwood. I decided to search the most likely places first. Diaries are some of the most common sources, you see. They're a hot spot for emotional connection. A case solved by Tendy's a few months ago on Fleet Street titled "The Shrieking Specter" was one good example. They had found the diary of the murdered woman who's spirit had been terrorizing the residents of the street. You know what the say, "One hath no fury like a woman scorned." After the diary was safely tucked away in a silver net, the spirit had vanished, along with her spectral shrieks. 

I smoothed the map on my knee, examining the rooms. I figured that bedrooms on the second floor would be the best place to start. Bedrooms are where personal belongings are usually kept, and I had a sneaking feeling that they may still be there. I decided to start with the master bedroom. I thought that if I tore up the floorboards and found a source, the Cartwrights would be a bit more preoccupied with being ghost free to care about that much. I also figured they would have more than enough money to replace a few floorboards. I slid the map into the pocket of my coat, and drew my rapier. I made my way to the master bedroom.

The bedroom was quite lavish. It had a large king sized four poster bed with an embroidered comforter and pillows that looked as though they were made of silk. Along the bed there were also those smaller unnecessary pillows that rich people seemed to love. There was a red plush carpet on the floor, and a mahogany wardrobe pressed against the wall opposite me. The table in the corner had an array of family photos. There was a large bay window in the wall next to the wardrobe with another array of the small pillows, blankets folded neatly beside them. Night stands were on either side of the the great bed, lamps set on top. On the wall beside that was a vanity, adorned with expensive looking makeup, skin products, and hair products. And finally, behind the bed was a mahogany chest, probably filled with sweaters and blankets. I couldn't hear anything. Not even a buzz in the air. It was just quiet, and soft snowflakes fell outside the bay window, some of them catching on the glass. I needed to find Elizabeth's bedroom if I wanted to find out who J was. I wasn't sure if this was it, but it was worth looking. I started by crouching on the floor, touching my fingers to the floorboards. I heard nothing. The spot under the rug was next. Again, nothing. This room was obviously nothing relating to Elizabeth. I stood up again, leaving the bedroom. The daughter's room was next. 

Lily Cartwright's room was lavish as well. There was a queen sized bed pushed against the opposite wall, adorned in stuffed animals and a purple duvet. It had a big white flower stitched into it, the pillowcase matching. A nightstand stood beside the bed, made of wood and painted white. The lamp that sat on top was one of those lamps that has a beaded shade, which in this case was pink. A toy chest sat in the other corner of the room, and there was a table about four feet away from the chest that had drawing utensils and paper with unfinished drawings strewn across it. On the wall that the bed was pressed against, there was also a bay window, though a bit smaller that the one in the master bedroom. It had a flower shaped pillow tucked into the corner, plush blankets with polka dots and other patters printed across them folded beside it. A few other pillows in various shapes were also piled there. The gauzy white curtains were tied back with purple ribbon. On the wood floor was a large carpet in the shape of a star, and a white dresser was pushed against the wall to my left beside the door. The walls were painted a gentle shade of violet. It was nice. However nice it was didn't matter, though. I tightened the grip on my sword. Was the diary here? Or was something else? That wasn't really possible, as nobody else was on record to have died in the house. I walked to stand in the center of the room. I closed my eyes and focused. I couldn't hear anything, but then again, the diary may not be the source. I finally turned my head and noticed the closet in the corner. I stepped forward, opening the door. It had been converted into a book shelf and was adorned with a large array of children's books. I groaned in frustration. How was I ever going to find the diary? Then I noticed something. 

Below the bottom shelf was an empty space. Well, empty if you moved the books there. It had a board lay over it, covering the bare floor and acting as a shelf. I knelt down and pulled the books out, putting them in a stack and praying that the board wasn't nailed to the floor. It wasn't. I lifted it as well, and came face to face with another empty space. It was just blackness underneath the board that was acting as a shelf. I unclipped my flashlight from my belt, and shone it down the hole. Below was floor insulation, yellow with age. I carefully moved it aside, and dug around in the space. My fingers wrapped around something, and I pulled it out. It was a small black box. I opened it, and inside was a ring. It was silver with a scalloped setting, and a small diamond set into it. It was an engagement ring. I hesitated before I pressed the tips of my fingers to the ring. I instantly got echoes.

A murmur of voices, one male, one female. A laugh, jubilant. But they suddenly changed into arguing, and a woman sobbing. Someone speaking softly. I pulled my fingers away, and tears prickled the corners of my eyes. I hurriedly set down the box, snapping it shut. Had J planned to propose? I sighed, and kept digging. My fingers wrapped around something else, this object flatter. My heart rose with hope as I pulled it out. I nearly clapped as I pulled out a book. It was leather bound and crackled with age, the red ribbon marking the place the writer left off frayed and stiff. I opened it, coughing violently as a cloud of dust arose into my face, and I waved it away with my hand. It was Elizabeth's alright. It said so inside the cover. 

_This Journal belongs to Elizabeth Allen Anthonyson._

Anthonyson had been added later, as the ink that _" _This Journal belongs to Elizabeth Allen"__ was written in was much more faded than the ink that was used to write  _"Anthonyson."_  

I put the book down next to the ring, and carefully covered the hole again, and re shelved the books. I then went to the bay window and sat down, opening the diary. I had put the box containing the ring in my coat pocket. I flipped through the book a bit. Elizabeth had received it from her mother in 1917. I flipped more until Benjamin was finally mentioned.

_November 17th, 1921_

_Hello Diary!_

_I've been in town with James today. It was so romantic. he took me to a tea shop and told me how beautiful I was. It hurts me to say I'm leaving him soon. While  I love him very much, as we've known one another since childhood, I have met someone. His name is Benjamin. I've been seeing him for nearly one month now, and he wants to go public. He comes from a rich family, and my mother approves very strongly of him._

_Liz_

 

His name was James. Is he J though? All signs pointed to him. I kept reading.

 

_November 23rd, 1921_

_I broke it off with James just as he chose to propose. I began to cry as soon as I saw the ring. I love him, but I love my Benny more. I told him no, and he too cried, and told me to keep the ring. I accepted to remind me of what I had with him. I then went to meet Benny, and he saw me crying and asked me what was wrong. I told him it was James. He had proposed. Benny was angry, but he kept himself composed. I was proud of him. Though I have been seeing James everywhere lately. Is he following me, I wonder? I tried to approach him, but he ran off._

_Liz._

 

I found myself wondering if James had begun to stalk her.

 

_December 12th, 1921_

_James tried to talk to me in the garden today. He began calling my Benny crazy, and that he would hurt me. I got madder than I should have and called him insane. When he left, he had a very peculiar look in his eye. It scares me to think about what it could mean._

_Liz_

 

I raised an eyebrow, but turned the page.

 

_December 25th, 1921_

_Benny is hosting a party tonight. It will be wonderful! I have a beautiful red dress picked out that makes me look like a rich woman. It's embroidered with beautiful golden beads, and Benny says he loves it. It makes me happy. I've invited James to come. I feel so bad for laving him like I did, but I just don't love him enough to marry him. I must go to the party now, Benny is calling me._

_Liz_

_December 25th, 1921_

_The party was wonderful! I walked down the stairs hand and hand with Benny He stopped and in front of everyone, he proposed! Of course I said yes! My ring is beautiful. It is a diamond with real gold. I danced with Benny until James asked for a word, and as soon as we were alone, he tried to kiss me. I pushed him off, disgusted! The nerve! He asked me if I loved him, and I said I did, but I loved Benny more, and that marrying him is what I want. I love Benny. With tears in my eyes, I asked him to be happy for me. He said would try._

_Liz_

My breath caught in my throat. 

_January 6th, 1922_

_I went for a dress today. I think I found the one. It's long and white with beads all down the sides. I have a veil that reaches the ground. I feel like a queen all draped in that gorgeous dress. I can't wait for the wedding!_

_Liz_

 

_May 10th, 1922_

_I was married today! The procession went smoothly and the dance afterwards was so romantic. James stared at me the whole time. It scared me._

_Liz_

 

I flipped through a few more pages, but the rest was blank. Elizabeth had died soon after her wedding. In February of 1923. I clutched the diary to my chest, and exited the room, closing it behind me. I needed to find Lockwood and George to tell them that the search was over. The diary had been found. And the ring... Was it the source?


	16. Chapter 16

Mixed emotions threaded my thoughts with rapid procession, and I clutched the diary to my chest as I walked. I didn't know whether to feel sad, or even happy about the fact that I knew more about Elizabeth's fate. I had seen very little of her this time, which was unusual. I hesitated as I reached the infamous landing, where I had seen her ghost several times before. I used my free hand to grip my rapier, making sure not to let my guard down. I could feel the psychic pressure building in my ears, and I pushed it away. Now where did Lockwood say he was going to be? George was in the basement, which meant that Lockwood would be in the living room. Which was downstairs. I gave the staircase a black look.

"Smashing." I sighed, shoving the diary into one of the inner pockets of my coat. Grip tight on my rapier, I began the procession down the stairs.

Nothing good can come out of psychic pressure. Why the hell did I ignore it? Because I'm an idiot. I tipped my head back so it was closer to my backpack. In a low whisper, I hissed the skull's name to get it's malicious attention. It replied in a few seconds, it's jeering voice filling my inner ear.

_"What now?"_

"Do you sense anything on the staircase?"

 _"Set me free and I may sense more."_ It said, it's voice venomous. I rolled my eyes.

"No," I said through gritted teeth, "You know I  _can't"_

_"Worth a shot."_

"No it wasn't," I deadpanned.

 _"So how are things with Lockwood?"_ The Skull asked with disinterest.

I paused, furrowing my brow. "This is so  _not_ the time to be discussing my love life."

_"It's always time to talk about your previously non-existent love life. How about you take me out and we have a little heart to heart chat."_

"I can't take you out of the jar, Skull. We've been over this."

I could hear the spectral sigh, though the Skull has no need to breathe.  _"Out of the bag, you nimrod. I don't ask twice in one night for freedom."_

"You have before." I snarled.

_"Oh, I suppose I have. But let's girl talk. Just you and me."_

"Skull, you aren't a girl." I said flatly.

 _"How do you know? I could have been a girl."_ It said airily.

"Skull, your voice is very  _male._ "

It gave a dark chuckle.  _"Lucy, I'd be less worried about my gender and more about the Spector creeping up behind you."_

I gave a string of not-so-nice words and swung around, coming face to face with the aforementioned ghost. Her long fingers were stretched out towards me, and I cut a warding knot around her transparent form. She shot backwards with a howl, and I flung a salt bomb in her direction, and her form fizzed as she disappeared.

I glared at the backpack as best I could over my shoulder. "You could have  _warned me_  about that, I reckon."

The skull chuckled darkly again,  _"Oh, that would be no fun at all."_

"Screw you," I growled, stalking down the stairs, this time a bit more cautiously.

* * *

Lockwood was in the living room, alright. He was sitting cross legged in the middle of the iron circle of chains around him, hands folded under his chin, eyes closed. The moonlight highlighted his slim face, and his hair stood in a stark contrast against his pale skin. I stepped forward, and the sound of my footsteps caused him to look at me, his trademark grin spreading across his face.

"You find anything good, Luce?" Lockwood said, pushing himself off the ground. He rose to his full height, shuffling over to make room for me in the circle of chains. I stepped inside with a nod. Reaching into my coat, I pulled out the diary and the ring. I handed them to him.

"It's a diary. It was Elizabeth's, I reckon, because nobody else in this house was named Elizabeth Allen Anthonyson. I found out J's name; it's apparently James. At least I think it is. The diary doesn't mention his last name, but it's a good lead."

Lockwood grinned, his teeth making a half-moon in the dim light. "Good work, Luce. We've gotta keep plugging away, though. Did you run into Elizabeth?"

I nodded. "Yeah, on the staircase. I got past her, obviously, no thanks to the skull."

 _"You know you love me."_ It jeered. I rolled my eyes.

Lockwood chuckled. "Well, let's see it, then."

I nodded, slipping the diary into his hand.

He read in silence while I stared out the window. The moon was a sliver in the sky, but still cast enough light for vision to be decent. Lockwood kept reading on in the dark, his dark eyes tracing the words slowly. He did not turn on his flashlight as not to ruin his night vision. I stood awkwardly, rocking on my heels. He looked up at me and back to the pages a few times, his dark eyes glittering in the dim moonlight.

I cleared my throat hesitantly. "Interesting, yeah?"

"Hmm," He hummed, "It certainly gives us some clues. We now have our man's first name, but no more. What a bother." His slim eyebrows furrowed as he said the last bit, and he went quiet again.

I took time to examine his face. The aforementioned dim lighting highlighted his handsome face in a way that made it seem without flaw. His dark hair was flopped across his brow in a coordinated manner. I would know he spends ages on his hair. If you open the cupboard beside the bath on the second floor, you have to be careful that you don't accidentally jostle a tube of hair gel or some other obscure and probably expensive product that Lockwood uses on his hair. One time I went to get some deodorant which I had thought I'd put in there - it turns out I hadn't- and I was struck in the middle of the chest by a plummeting tube of some hair product. I was too annoyed with the offending object that I didn't glance at the label, I just shoved it back in the cupboard, which was a big mistake, because I sent more objects flying. One struck the top of my head, another landed on my foot, and one somehow fell down my shirt. I was much more careful when I was putting them back this time. The deodorant was, meanwhile, innocently sitting on the sink.

Lockwood closed the journal with a snap and handed it back to me. I took it, replacing it inside my coat.

"Did you find anything else, Luce?"

I nearly shook my head before remembering the engagement ring. I reached inside my coat again, withdrawing the box. "Yeah. I think it's an engagement ring. I got some echoes from it... I heard crying, and laughing, and yelling. I think James used it to propose. It describes the ring that Benjamin used in the diary as gold. So this must be the one belonging to James."

Lockwood studied my face for a few seconds before breaking into a megawatt grin. I unconsciously smiled back. He just affected people that way. He would smile at someone, and they would smile back with a faded echo of what he'd delivered.

"Well done, Lucy. This means we're this closer to solving this mystery. We're lucky to have such a good listener." His dark eyes glittered gleefully. I felt my cheeks heat up.

I sighed, turning towards the moon-lit window. It really did look silvery tonight. Just a slipper of a thing. I looked back at Lockwood, giving him a half smile. "Thanks. You're a good leader." He grinned at me. He stepped closer to me, pulling me against his much taller frame. I could feel him bury his nose in the hair at the top of my head. I frapped my arms around his slim waist, and we held each other in the moonlight.

Both of knew this house held more secrets that where yet to be uncovered, but we just were too lost in each other at that moment to think about that.

**Author's Note:**

> That's finished! I really hope you guys liked this, and I will update probably later today! See ya for now!
> 
> ~Starry


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